


Becoming IronMan

by Quiet_reader



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Depression, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Tony, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Poor Tony, Suicide Attempt, Tony Feels, Tony-centric, Where to begin!, young Tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 22:17:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2325155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiet_reader/pseuds/Quiet_reader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark and his Bonded alpha disappeared several years previously after one too many arguments with the Avengers Team. He had stopped answering the calls to assemble, stopped giving them reasons why, let alone excuses, and then one day just upped off and left. </p><p>Several years later, a young and homeless omega is standing on a bridge preparing to jump off, and only one officer of the law is trying to prevent him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [everythingispoetry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingispoetry/gifts).



> Going to begin with this an apology. I’ve tried to do a fair amount of research for this story, but I’m not a native to either New York nor America. I’ve tried to find a logical bridge, but can’t find much information into what type of atmosphere Hudson Heights has, so hopefully my portrayal isn’t too far off. Also, I’m not really sure what type of format police radio calls use, ‘Code 83’ is apparently the call for a suicide in the state of New York, but I’m not sure what a suicide in progress is. Anyone have any further idea? It has been really, really annoying me that I can’t find a definite answer to this! 
> 
> Also I’m making Tony younger than MCU canon purely because I got the inspiration for this story from the beginning interactions between Walker and Tony – I couldn’t have written their relationship in the way if I did if Tony was in his 40’s. So yes, pure laziness I’m afraid. Apologies! 
> 
> Very basic (reader-friendly) timeline:  
> Howard and Maria died: Tony was 16  
> Tony graduated MIT: Tony was 16  
> Iron Man 1: Tony was 19  
> Iron Man 2: Tony was 20  
> The Avengers: Tony was 20  
> Iron Man 3: non existent – Tony still has the arc reactor  
> Age at beginning of story: 23
> 
> This is dedicated to everythingispoetry (seriously - go read their work, True Awesomeness) for far, far, far too much talking about various fic ideas. (Go read their stuff! You won't regret it)
> 
> Criticism/advice would be very much appreciated please!

“Walker, you free?” a crackle creasing its way through the otherwise silent vehicle indicated the end of the call. A grizzled hand reached out to pick up the receiver to reply. 

“Sarah, I’ve been trying to convince you that I’m available for years now, are you finally giving in?” smirked Officer Walker as he sat in his car sipping on a coffee, a large part of him still wishing he’d added a donut onto the order. Still, he was determined to avoid that middle-aged paunch that kept on trying to creep up on him and neglecting his love affair with donuts would definitely help. With a purely internal sigh he replaced the cup into his coffee holder and re-buckled his seatbelt. It sounded like he and his partner’s break was over. 

A soft laugh echoed down the radio in response to the older policeman’s words, “I think Gabi might take issue with that. Dispatch are about to call out a code 83 in progress over the open radio in the Hudson Heights area, and I was wondering if you were in the area…?” A disgruntled expression crossed over the alpha’s face, one swiftly mimicked by his partner, as Walker swiftly switched the engine on and threw the car into gear, barely allowing time for the engine to turn. Code 83 in progress? A potential suicide about to happen. 

“We’re on it.” Walker grunted, as he near threw the receiver at his partner, a rookie alpha called King. He seemed like he had the makings of a good officer, although his heart was too soft to work in a district like the Bronx. Still, time to see how he managed a scenario like this. “Call it in that we’re on it, and get the required info James.” He grunted as he swung the wheel around to the left whilst flicking the switch to activate the emergency lights. It was one of the harder aspects of the job, having to talk down those who were determined to end it all. Walker seemed to have a higher success rate than others, so he was quite often called in for cases like this if at all possible. At least King knew him well enough by now to know that the idle chit-chat they normally filled their time with would not be welcome at this moment. The younger alpha would save up any questions he had and then ask them at a later stage. Besides, King was very close to the end of his mentorship and most likely didn’t have many questions anyway. 

Barely moments later, King had collected all the available information from Dispatch and input the address of the Sputyen Duyvil Creek into the infernal new-fangled GPS unit. Seemed like it was a potential jumper they had on their hands. Walker pushed his foot down harder, willing the New York traffic to remove itself from the road. Only in New York would there be this volume of traffic at approaching two o’clock in the morning. At least the majority of it was getting out of their way.

A tense few minutes later, the patrol car pulled up into the car park and both officers barrelled their way out of the car intent on getting to the bridge as fast as possible. Dispatch had said that the hopefully not-jumper had been called in by a couple who had been out for a Romantic Walk and they were currently with the man, a potentially homeless omega judging from the report, trying to convince him otherwise. And wasn’t that thought enough to drive a ice-like blade of concern through his stomach. It was bad enough being a homeless beta, or alpha on the streets of New York City, but an omega? They’d have every self-entitled KnotHead thinking that they belonged to them. No better than human cattle. Every young idiot would see them as prey. What was an omega doing on the streets? There’s a reason that the O-shelters were as good and well-funded as they were. Omegas should not have to resort to street-living, not even if escaping abusive relationships. Dispatch had already informed them that an ambulance manned by at least one omega was on the way, about ten minutes behind them. Logic, unfortunately, dictated that it would most likely be needed.

As the pair neared the reported location, Walker indicated that they needed to slow down – it was important to not make the man any jumpier than he already was, and having a pair of burly alphas bare down on him would certainly do that. Instead, as soon as he trusted his lungs to not make his voice waver, Walker called out ensuring that none of the concern he was feeling was evident in his tone whilst doing his best to make himself sound friendly, “Hello, the camp! Officers Walker and King reporting for duty.” 

A quick scan of the area lit by streetlights of which only one seemed to be working order, tax dollars doing their usual excellent job, revealed a young couple complete with strained faces standing relatively close to a figure on the wrong side of the barricade. It was immediately obvious to Walker that the man was out of reaching distance, and the couple were overly anxious. The omega was most likely subconsciously wafting out some fear pheromones or other, but all alpha officers were required to take drugs that negated the effect of those. It stopped brawling occurring amongst each other, and made it much harder for them to be effected in possibly dangerous situations. Case in point. The young couple, an alpha/beta partnership by the looks of things, were both anxious and unable to think clearly, yet the two Officers both had their wits about them. 

“Stay back.” The voice of the omega was unwavering, although absolutely exhausted sounding, despite the fact that he was ordering two alphas around, a note that struck a chord of surprise within Walker. “I mean it. Just fuck off and let me get on with this. I don’t need an audience.” The owner was thin, unhealthily so which tallied in with the homeless theory, possibly the result of some form of drug addiction? He, definitely a ‘he’ from that voice, was clad in what looked like jeans and some form of short-sleeved top. It was hard to tell in the poor lighting. His body appeared to be slight of height and just small-framed in general, as was typical of omegas, though it was hard to discern his precise height with the barrier in the way. Slight shivers were coursing up and down the omega’s frame and the icy, early-November wind, which was of course choosing to kick up every now and again, only sent further shivers down the man’s spine. It was impossible in the dim light to tell further about the man’s condition or any further defining features from Walker’s position. It was hard even to make out the man’s head, covered in half-shadows as it was. Despite the bold tone of command, unconcealed by the rasp of exhaustion coating it, behind his words, it was easy to tell that he was only a young man, mid-twenties at the absolute latest, far too young to be in this position. 

“I’m sorry, son. I can’t do that” Walker replied as he froze in place, noting with a side glance that King had echoed his movements. Good. The rookie really was getting there. As he spoke, he was careful to maintain his tone friendly sounding although avoiding that patronising soothing shit that some alphas deemed best to take with upset omegas. How best to proceed from here? The fact that the man was willing to talk to them was a good sign, but what should he say in return. “See, if I were to just fuck off then I’d be charged with gross negligence of duty – officers aren’t encouraged to abandon people to take swan dives, you understand? How about you clamber back on over here, I’ve got a spare jumper in the bus you can have, and we can chat this through. See if I can’t help you out any.” As he spoke, he allowed a hint of his native South-Carolina drawl to drift into his words. “I’m Officer Walker, Giles Walker, if you really must know though I’d really prefer if you didn’t call me Giles.” A touch of a self-deprecating grin cut over his lips, despite the fact that the man was still standing with his back to him. If this were a friend or colleague he’d have made some crack about how his parents must have hated him to give him such an awful name, but without knowing this young man’s history? It was impossible to know if maybe his parents really had hated him, best to avoid wisecracks such as that. “You got a name you feel like sharing with me?”

The man shook his head, the denial so vehement that Walker thought for a heart-stopping second that the motion would send his whole body plummeting off the tiny ledge he was balanced so precariously on. “Don’t try to buddy up with me, it’s not worth it. Just leave me to do this in peace; none of you need to see this. I’ve got some weights on, so my body shouldn’t come up again and disturb anyone. It really won’t be a problem. Just go.” 

Walker didn’t try to prevent the wince from creasing his face. Ouch. That was definitely a blow to the heart. But it did offer him an angle in. It sounded like the young man was holding off jumping while he had witnesses. Time to make himself more human rather than just a random police officer. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, he saw one of the civvies, the alpha, take a step closer, face set in a mask of pity and nearly oozing the need to help the poor, widdle omega. Acting quickly Walker waved at her to garner her attention before shaking his head deliberately. He was doing his best to build a rapport with the other man and the interruption probably wouldn’t help. “Still not going to happen, son. I’ve seen two people take swan-dives on my watch before and am in no way going to just leave you to take one. Come on, look at me, talk to me. Let me help. Is there anyone I can call for you?” It was always a gambit asking someone that, sometimes it was ‘someone’ they were running from, but equally, sometimes it wasn’t. 

Tony St-, Tony tilted his head to face Officer Walker, trying his best to set his expression into some form of discouraging glare. Walker appeared to be a fairly typical Alpha – tall and broad shouldered. He had to have been at least the wrong side of fifty judging by the amount of silver hairs that were peppering his beard. Definitely older than his Dad had been before he copped it, at any rate. Still, there was something almost gentle about the older man that Tony just wasn’t accustomed to anymore. Maybe it was in the way his shoulders looked purposefully slumped so as to make himself appear smaller? Or the way he was watching him with that steady gaze. Not a hint of pity in it, just determination. There was something in that gaze that almost reminded him of Steve. With an almost physical jerk, Tony yanked his thoughts away from Them. He couldn’t think of Them at this moment. Not here. Not now. Thankfully, a glint of something metallic hanging around the officer’s neck caught his attention. Dog tags, maybe? It couldn’t be a collar, not on someone who so obviously an alpha. Maybe the man was ex-forces? That would certainly explain the man’s athletic build. 

“Dog-tags?” Tony took a second to curse his curiosity; he did not want to engage in conversation with this man! He resolutely forced his gaze away from the officer and back to the drop swimming below him. The sound of water rushing was just so soothing… it reminded him for a second of his home in Malibu. Tony flinched. A full-bodied judder that made his knees tremble and nearly give way to send him flying downwards. Without a suit. If he didn’t want to think of Them, then he most definitely didn’t want to think of Malibu! And Alicia. And and… Feh! He resisted the urge to spit in disgust at himself, he couldn’t even think of the man’s name! Still found it so hard to resist the siren-call from the Bond Mark stained upon his neck. Worthless! Useless! Tony let himself lean forward slightly, eyes fixated on the water flowing beneath him. He really didn’t want to do this with witnesses, but if they wouldn’t leave…

Office Walker inched forwards a few steps closer, gaze fixated on the young man who had so nearly just fallen. He reckoned that he’d be able to grab the lad if he leapt, something that was looking more and more likely. Maybe. “Hey, hey. You’re alright there, lad. Yes, these are my old dog-tags from back in my army days. I was in the Marines, though let myself slide a bit since then!” There, again was that self-deprecating grin although it was much more forced this time. The omega really did look like he was preparing himself to drop, witnesses or no. Just a few steps closer... 

Tony, hearing the alpha’s footsteps approaching swung his face back round once more. “I said to stay back!” Why couldn’t they just leave him be! He’d had enough. Just enough. Alica was going to be fine; he’d left her at the Tower. His old Team would look after her, he was certain of it. No loose ends. He’d never be able to escape Hi- Once again, the young omega’s thoughts shied away from the brutal imagery that was trying to flash through his mind. This was his only escape, why couldn’t this damn police officer just understand that! “Please…” he whispered, closing his eyes in an attempt to escape his thoughts and ignoring the way his voice cracked. “Please, just let me do this at least. I can’t do this anymore.”

Why was he letting this cop talk to him? Was this how far he had sunk? He swung his gaze away once more, back to the waters flowing beneath him. This was the best option. What could the cops do? Protect him from his One True Love? His Bonded? A sneer crossed over the omega’s face. So much for that. No one could protect him. No one wanted to. Alicia would grow up just fine without him. Children had grown up without parents before, and the Team would make sure she either had a good home, or lived with them. His letter would hopefully ensure it. They may well hate him, but they would never transfer that over to a child, not even his child. She was young enough to get over it. This was better. Tony allowed his eyes to slip closed, ignoring the searing pain that swept through him, momentarily washing out any other thought as his thoughts dwelled upon his beloved daughter. This was better.

Tony straightened his shoulders with a strictly internal sigh, his spine trying to take on the ramrod straightness it had once held with brutal efficiency, a futile attempt to ignore the shivers that were wracking him. Before he had been broken. In another life, it felt like. Why was it so cold? How cold would the water feel? Why had he chosen water to die by, anyway? Tony’s sneer edged into a smirk, as one lip curled upward. It did seem a somewhat fitting irony. He’d been re-moulded into a different person by water in a freezing cave in distant Afghanistan. It did only seem fitting that water kill him completely. Or would the impact kill him? Tony hadn’t really thought this plan through past finding somewhere isolated and quiet – not an easy task in New York City. A thrill of fear suddenly shot through him, the first time the emotion had touched him on this evening. He remembered all too well what it was like to drown. To try to suck oxygen into lungs that were surrounded only by water. Still. His decision was made. He’d die here. 

Walker edged forward another half-step, swiftly followed by another, and gestured at King to try the same. He was so close. The young omega’s body language was stiffening, as though he was reaching his decision. It was all going to come to a tumultuous conclusion very shortly, of that he was certain. If only the lighting here wasn’t so damn bad then he’d stand a chance of reading the young man’s expression, see his eyes! He’d have an idea what to say to help the omega. As it was, the youth’s expression was half shrouded in shadow and difficult to make out. “Hey now…” he murmured, keeping his pitch quiet so as to not make the young man jump, “there are other options…” 

Tony tore his gaze from the icy deeps beneath him, and met the eyes of the Alpha dead on for the first time. “I’m sorry, Giles.” he whispered, desperation evident within his own expression. “I did ask you to leave.” With that, he let go of the barrier he’d been clutching previously, and pushed himself from the bridge. As he fell, a momentary thrill of adrenaline touched him. One last reminder of what it felt like to be Iron Man.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this is so short and poorly written - I've been struggling with it for days (it had got up to nearly 4,000 words at one point!). I decided in the end to just delete it all and wrote this one little section. I hope it's somewhat clear what's happening? I kind of wanted it to be chaotic sounding, and somewhat hard to figure out.
> 
> Really sorry again for the length.

Walker didn’t even take the time to utter a curse as the youth flung himself off the edge. He propelled himself forward, knowing that he was too far away but unable, not to speak of unwilling, to prevent himself from trying. He barged into the steel barrier with enough force that he just knew he’d have some impressive bruises come morning, and, reaching over, just managed to grab the omega by one arm halting him with a sudden, and painful, jolt.

A hauntingly furious cry of ‘No!’ ripped through the air as the omega swung in the air, knocking into the bridge as his own momentum caused his body to swing in a pendulum-like motion. 

“Please! Please just let me go.” Begged the youth, his free hand scrabbling for purchase on the bridge as he tried to use the leverage to tug his captive hand away. “Please!” 

Walker grunted through the strain as all of the youth’s weight hung from his one hand. He tried to get his second arm into position where he could get a better grip, but the omega’s struggles only made it impossible to hang on. His palm slipped once, made greasy by sweat beginning to gather in the creases. Twice. A third time. 

“Damn it, kid!” All he could do was just watch as the omega slipped through the tips of his fingers. A fucking smile resting on his lips.

_‘Please! Please just let me go.’_

The young man closed his eyes as he fell, a misplaced look of serenity the only thing visible on the man’s features replacing the terror that ought to have been there. That expression jarred at something deep within Walker. That expression belonged on a man sixty years senior to this young lad. A man who had lived a full life. A man who had had a family. Friends. A man who was resting in his casket having accomplished his life’s dreams and goals. That closed off look of hideous serenity did not deserve to be seen on this free-falling youth who life had so drastically turned her back on. 

Dual grunts of pain tore Walker from his ruminations. King! James was leaning dangerously far over the barrier, one leg already half-way over the barrier even, with the omega’s flailing arm firmly gripped between his two hands. Damn Rookie! Walker’s own failed attempt to grasp the youth must have enabled his damned fool of a partner to manoeuvre himself into the precarious position in order to catch the kid.

“Secure his legs!” snapped Walker at the pair who had made the initial call. If his Goddamned Idiot of a partner was going to risk his life to save the kid, then Walker wasn’t going to allow his attempt to fail. Walker bent over the barrier as far he could reach, the pressure of the metal bar pushing deep into his stomach as he managed to grab hold of the youth’s other flailing hand despite his best efforts. 

The omega let loose an almost animalistic wail of despair as he kicked with both legs, desperate to tug himself free, but both Walker and King grimly hung on despite his best efforts. “No! Let go! Let go! L’t go!” The repeated words began to elide into each other with the speed and distress that the young man was bellowing them. 

“Easy, lad. Easy.” Walker grunted as he and his partner began to heave the fighting omega up and over the barrier. Sweat pricked at the base of his spine from the force he was exerting as the unwilling, fighting and struggling frame was tugged up and over the metal barrier and onto the combination of concrete and gravel of the sidewalk. 

One last howl of pure frustration ripped through the night-time air as Walker immediately pressed the thin frame into the ground, using his own body weight to prevent him from getting up again. A near impossible task that was! All the serenity that the omega’s expression had previously contained was wiped away as he swiftly turned into a biting, clawing wild thing. It was as though the young man’s skin was slicked with oil rather than sweat which was pouring off him. He wriggled, and writhed. Kicked and bit. Clawed and scratched with far more energy than Walker would have ever believed possible. 

“Cuffs!” The belaboured officer eventually snapped out at his partner who was trying desperately to restrain the man’s legs so as to prevent all of them from further injury. King promptly followed instruction, releasing the flailing legs long enough to grasp said cuffs from his waist. 

Walker let out a further grunt of pain as a knee slammed into his ribs, the force of which nearly rocked his body off of the thrashing eel beneath him and did managed to send the air whooshing from his lungs. “Kid!” he growled breathlessly as he flipped the omega over, allowing King to snap one cuff over a flailing wrist. 

As soon as the metal cuff encircled the skinny wrist, it was as if all life within the man was suddenly cut loose. His every muscle suddenly seemed to turn to liquid as he slumped bonelessly to the ground, every last sign of resistance gone as his shoulders heaved in an attempt to catch a breath. 

The unexpectedly sudden stillness would have sent Officer Walker careening to the ground in a move that would have sent his jaw smashing into the rather unforgiving concrete if he hadn’t caught himself. 

A silence fell over the trio, broken only by the harsh pants that filled the night-time air as all three tried to catch their breaths and by the sound of water rushing below.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There. Another chapter. :) 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the kudos/subscribers/comments I've been receiving! I'm shocked and super-pleased at the response.
> 
> Enjoy?

Walker took advantage of the omega’s sudden stillness to draw his still-free wrist back and into the metal embrace of the second cuff. It wasn’t of paramount importance as the youth seemed pretty tuckered out. It was unlikely he was going to try anything further now, but still, better safe than sorry. The cuffs were only necessary until the ambulance arrived anyway – they just made it harder for the kid to get away and try again. 

After that? He took a moment to just breathe. He could still feel his own heart racing from adrenaline, not to speak of how he was still trying to regain his breath from the wallop to his stomach. On top of all that? It was all too easy to feel the way the heart of the youth pressed against him was jacknifing away like the Duracell Bunny on steroids. If circumstances were different then Walker would have been genuinely concerned that the lad had a heart condition. 

It seemed all too suitable that at that moment the ambulance pulled up. Seeing the situation was under control, King got to his feet and went to intercept the medics so as to give them a full report on the current situation. 

With a grunt of effort, Walker hauled himself to a crouching position, being careful to keep a restraining hand pressed into the kid’s spine; couldn’t be too careful after all. Hell, he was going to _ache_ come morning. Grazes and bruises that were beginning to make themselves known were going to truly litter his frame, not to speak of his wrenched muscles. 

He looked down at the heaving shoulders of the kid below him, only allowing a shard of the pity he felt to leak into his expression because the omega was unable to see his face. Pity would not help him and would potentially annoy him. Still, the kid would be aching far worse than Walker himself in the morning, but at least he’d be alive to ache. 

Still, Walker couldn’t suppress the definitely Alpha Urge to try and comfort the youth.

“Easy, lad. Just take a deep breath, alright? I’ve gotcha. It’ll be just fine.” The words appeared to do little to alleviate the lad’s struggle for control, so Walker laid his spare hand lightly on the young man’s shoulder, intending to impart a sense of… security? Comfort? Solidarity? Something like that.

That garnered a reaction.

The muscles splayed beneath him that had previously been quivering from the tension thrumming through them suddenly stilled. 

That was the warning.

The man exploded into movement. He rolled not _away_ from the bulky alpha as Walker had been somewhat expecting, but towards him instead. Now, granted, normally the slim build of an omega, particularly one as waif-thin as this one, wouldn’t do much to budge the solidly built alpha. However, his position, crouched and leaning forward slightly in order to exert more pressure, meant that he was already off-balance. The addition to this equation of a small body ramming into his shins was enough to knock him backwards with a bitten off curse. 

King, who had been apprising the medics of the situation, spun around in time to see the previously docile omega power himself to his feet using only the strength of his core muscles, and book it towards the bridge as though the Hounds of Hell themselves were dogging his footsteps. 

Without taking the time to analyse the situation, King sprinted at the surprisingly sprightly man. His stronger, more powerful legs narrowed the distance between the pair rapidly, and the alpha tackled the omega, sending him careening to the ground at far greater force than the rookie officer had intended. 

Walker winced at the shouts of pain both throats emitted and rushed over to help his partner restrain the sudden wild-cat they had on their hands once more. Handcuffed hands clenched into a joint fist and tried to hit out at anything they could reach with their limited movement. Feet kicked out with surprising levels of force, hitting anything they could reach. Teeth snapping in desperation at any skin that foolishly came within their reach. 

King was tripped to the ground once more with an ‘oof’ as one flailing knee hooked itself somehow around his legs and pulled him over. Walker took the moment to once again throw himself bodily over the kid, physically suppressing every inch of him that he could reach with his larger frame. It shouldn’t have been as hard as it was. The kid was handcuffed with his hands behind his back, underfed, freezing whilst facing off two officers, one of whom was an ex-Marine. He sure wouldn’t be living this one down any time soon…

“Kid!” Walker bellowed with every ounce of lung power sharpened by seven years as a staff sergeant in the Marines had given him. That, combined with the pure sense of _Alpha_ he tried to infuse into his tone, a tactic he so rarely used, finally seemed to make the struggling omega freeze. 

The atmosphere once again descended into peace, only disrupted by the anxious babbling of the pair who had initially reported the incident. The EMTs were thankfully doing as their training dictated and were remaining away until the scenario was under control. 

“Pretty determined there, hey Kid.” Spoke Walker, his tone as soothing as he could make it once more, his chest heaving. “I’m sorry, but I’m just not going to let it happen. I know things have to be looking pretty bad right now,” and wasn’t that an understatement? No one fought that hard without some pretty heavy determination behind them. “and they’re not going to be looking much better in the morning.”

Those words jolted a snort from the figure lying beneath him. 

“Isn’t this the stage where you’re meant to tell me how everything’s going to be fine and dandy? With rainbows and fairy wings.” The omega’s voice was raspy and choked-sounding, his words spoken through the gasps and pants he was still uttering instead of normal steady breaths. His tone though… it sounded so…defeated, despite the sardonic humour evident behind the words. It made Walker’s gut clench. People just shouldn’t sound like that. 

Walker snorted a laugh of his own. “Would that make you feel better? I could get King over there to shove a unicorn horn on and prance about a bit. I do outrank him, you know.” At his words, King sat back on his haunches, though he balanced himself through one knee on the ground having learnt from Walker’s error. 

“Sure thing, sir. Anything you say, sir. Your wish is my command, sir.” 

Walker raised an eyebrow as a smile played at the corner of his lips and a slight nod of approval to King. “Do you see what I have to put with, hey kid? No respect from the youth of today.” There banter seemed to be helping the omega slightly. His shoulders were jerking less, and although though Walker could feel how his muscles were flexing as though testing the solid grip, the movements were becoming less… frantic. 

“Can you get off me? Making it kind of hard to breathe down here – you’re the one who implied you could stand to lose a few pounds after all.” Came the next request instead of any reply to the previous banter. 

Walker took a moment to consider his options. “You going to make a run for it again?” There was no doubt that he considerably outweighed the slender lad beneath him. Yet so far the other man had proven to be surprisingly resourceful and determined. Not to mention desperate to succeed in his goal. Walker was not going to let down his guard, that was for certain. 

The omega paused as though considering his options, and wasn’t that telling in itself? Eventually he shook his head. “I’ll behave.” Was that an undercurrent of humour running through his tone. Walker could work with that! 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” He retorted, taking care to keep his tone light so the other knew he wasn’t serious. “So far I don’t think you’ve responded to a single one of my ‘requests’. Going to need a bit of proof that you can manage to ‘behave’” He was well aware that he was potentially treading on thin ground here.

Stats showed that abuse of omegas wasn’t the prolific problem it was eighty or ninety years ago – drugs had been discovered now that helped alphas in controlling some of their stronger possessive natures. That had led to discoveries of drugs for omegas which helped to temper the desperate need to please their alpha. Once those relationship imbalances were more equal, then abuse cases dropped significantly. Even if it did appear to cause a surge in spousal or child abuse. Analysts were constantly trying to figure out why that was – Walker himself believed it was more to do with the fact that now people felt freer to report the cases.

In addition to the improvements in drugs, omega civil rights had improved greatly since the seventies with the result that now pretty much every major city in the States hosted several O-Homes – homes where omegas could go to either hide out, or spend their heats, completely free of charge. They were decent places subject to regular, and unscheduled, government checks. The fact that abused omegas now had somewhere to go and be protected from their partners again was a large factor in the reduction of spousal violence. 

Finally, Stark Industries headed by Tony Stark, a celebrity omega turned superhero who had vanished from public eye to live with his Bonded in peace several years previously, had revolutionised the software that enabled Bonded partners to find each other. They had created software that enabled people to upload their scents onto a secure database which then found their matched pair. That had been the nail in the coffin for the majority of omega abuse cases – after all, who would want to harm their Bonded? Of course, there were still cases – not everyone was decent in this world, some omegas abused their alphas, the world was not a perfect place by any means. But those three changes had definitely helped. 

Anyway, Walker knew that he was walking on thin ground speaking this way to the traumatised young man – people didn’t just decide to kill themselves, something had no doubt driven him to it. It was possible it was a case of abuse, many parents, after all, were overly harsh on their omega children about behaving well enough. Still, this man seemed to respond well to a slightly teasing rapport that he had set up. 

The omega snorted in slight humour once more. Good! “You’re not the first to say that. Being a mindless drone isn’t my kind of thing, you see.” Walker cursed as the omega’s tone drifted to a much flatter, deader sound than before. A sensitive topic, evidently. Abuse really was looking more likely, the poor kid. 

Walker patted the man’s shoulder in silent apology before slowly levering his weight off of him. He crouched backwards once more, mirroring King’s body language by keeping one knee firmly planted on the ground. He also was careful to maintain a grip on the omegas knee and elbow to prevent him from rolling away again. No second (third) chances going to happen here. He winced as his movements caused the youth to rapidly inhale as though in pain. 

“How badly hurt are you, kid? No tough-man act now.” 

Despite his casual tone, he continued to watch the man like the proverbial hawk. As the old saying went ‘trick me once, shame on you. Trick me twice, shame on me.’ He did so try to avoid being the fool. He noted with pleasure that King was doing the same. If the man did decide to break for a third attempt at the bridge then he would undoubtedly be stopped. 

The youth was silent for a few long moments drawing a “Kid…” out of the patient officer.

That got a reaction.

“My name’s not ‘Kid’.” The youth almost spat out. “I’m nearly 23, alright? Not badly hurt. Shoulders are a bit sore from when you guys grabbed me, that’s the worst.” 

Walker elected not to ask which time. Instead he allowed a smirk to cross his face, knowing it would come through in his voice. The kid had sounded almost sulky! “Alright then, ‘Almost-23’ - we can work with that. I haven’t forgotten that ‘Giles’ throwaway from earlier, just so you know. Got a better name we can call you? Or shall we stick with ‘Almost-23’ 

King outright laughed at the slight growl of annoyance the omega offered up in response. “I don’t think he likes that one, boss.” 

“Going to have to keep on calling you it until you give me something better to work with then,” allowed Walker, still smirking slightly, though watching the kid carefully for reactions. It would not do to push him too far and make him actually belittled – as long as they all knew they were joking then this level of conversation was absolutely fine. 

“Anyway. How do your legs feel? You’ve taken some pretty hard knocks today.” Better get back to the health conversations, then they could get him loaded up into the ambulance and fully checked out. From there, his future was pretty uncertain. They’d need to find somewhere he could go, see if he had anyone trustworthy looking for him. Or maybe a stay in a psyche ward. Or an O-shelter. Somewhere where he’d be off the streets and with people who would try and help him. That was the important part. 

“I said it was only my shoulders.” Something must have gone wrong, the youth’s voice had returned to that dead sound with so little feeling. Still, there was nothing Walker could do for that right at this moment. 

“Do you fancy turning over so we can get you sitting up and over into the bus then to be looked over by the professionals? That will at least rescue you away from my tender attempts at first aid, anyway.” Walker tried to regain the lighter atmosphere of before. The kid’s entire body just screamed ‘dejection; and that without even seeing his face. 

Instead of a vocal response like Walker hoped, ‘Almost-23’ just nodded and began to try to turn himself over. His whole body let loose a flinch as he began to move, and he seemed unable to repress the grunt the pain caused. “Whoa, hold it. I’ll help you, alright? Let me do the hard work there – you can’t use your arms, after all. King and I can flip you over, sound good?” Again, the kid nodded though he did tense further once again. 

King and Walker shared a glance, both making the mental note to be extra cautious and keep an eye on him. “Alright, may I touch your shoulder and knee? Then I’ll just lift and roll you towards King over there who’ll catch you to make sure you trap your arms beneath you. Sound good?” Some of Almost-23’s issues were seeming to stem from contact, if Walker was reading him right, so hopefully by asking him first he would feel more in control. Once more, the kid nodded, though there seemed hints of annoyance behind the action. Maybe he didn’t like the kiddie gloves treatment? Even if he seemed to need it. A conundrum. 

Still. Putting his words to actions was simple, and within moments Almost-23 was sitting upright with some of his weight leaning against Walker whilst one of the medics checked him over and King brought over a shock blanket and then began to fill out the paperwork the situation required with the other medic. 

Almost-23 had seemed to retreat completely back into himself, communicating by grunts and nods or head-shakes. His main reaction had occurred when Walker had begun to head over to help the medic fill out the paperwork. His ‘You off then?’ had been the only words the lad had spoken and the exceedingly well-concealed nerves the snarky words were covering up had drawn Walker back like a moth to the flame. “Not just yet, Almost-23. Was just going to ask about grabbing another coffee – mighty cold out here tonight.” Had been Walker’s answer. The kid clearly didn’t want him to realise that he was on the edge of panicking, so Walker would affect that he had no idea. He was clearly here for the long haul.

Shortly after that, the four of them (with King driving the car back to the precinct to fill in more reports) were settled in the ambulance and on the way to the hospital. Almost-23 was safely strapped in with the medical cuffs and covered in another shock blanket to combat the encroaching hypothermia he was suffering from. Otherwise he seemed mostly unharmed. Strained muscles, more bruises of different ages than anyone cared to think about, scrapes and a couple of nasty cuts and vastly underweight for someone his height. So maybe not mostly unharmed, but not as seriously harmed as he might’ve been. 

Those were all the injuries visible with his clothes on, at any rate. 

In the harsh light of the ambulance, Walker finally got a good look at the kid. He looked about his age, possibly a bit younger, though that was likely to do with the complete lacking of spare fat on his cheek-bones. He was clad in a pair of thoroughly ripped and filthy jeans and an equally filthy Metallica-themed t-shirt, again with several rips. Both were definitely beyond saving. Did the kid have any more clothes? Walker would organise him some. Warmer ones at that. He was damned lucky he didn’t have a lot worse than ‘encroaching hypothermia’.

His angular face was framed by a dark head of hair which was in desperate need of a cut, and his straggly beard that framed the lower half of his face indicated that he’d been on the streets for at least a month. Possibly longer if he’d found a razor somewhere. Though that then begged the question why hadn’t he killed himself before this? Either that or he just had really bad taste in grooming. 

The dark-colour of his hair only emphasised the pale-pallor the youth sported, broken up by the red lines creasing the right-hand side of his face with what looked like specks of gravel embedded in them. Obviously a scrape from one of the numerous times he’d hit the ground this evening. His eyes were similarly surrounded by such dark circles that they looked more like bruises rather than eyes. 

The EMT who had climbed into the back of the bus in them was a short omega called Paula who Walker had worked with before. Her friendly disposition easily made her a favourite of his who he remembered well. 

“So, who do have here then? Almost-23, hey?” She levelled a mock glare at Walker, “Why do I have the feeling you had something to do with that? Hm? And while we’re on the subject, why is my patient quite so injured? You do realise your job is to _save_ people. Not hurt them, yes?” 

Walker raised his hands to ward off the onset of words. Sunny disposition? Right! “Not my fault, boss-lady! He’s still breathing. That was my goal.” Paula glared further at him, he thought (hoped!) in a mocking way, before turning back with a smile to Almost-23. Hoping to see that their dispute would at least draw a smile from the reserved young man.

“Sorry about that, hun. We try to ignore him. He’s a child in disguise as an adult.” Walker began to speak up in protest, but Paula swiftly shot him down with a look. “ _AS_ I was saying…my name’s Paula, and I’m going to just double-check you haven’t got any worse injuries than we initially thought. I can begin to clean up some of these grazes while we drive? Would you mind if I cut off your t-shirt? It’s a bit ru-“

As soon as she mentioned removing his shirt, the kid’s face paled dramatically. “No!” He interrupted. Shouted, really. A distressed sound once more in his voice as his pitch rose in unconcealed anxiety. “It’s mine. Yo- You can’t. Please. Just leave it. Can you work around it?” He tugged at his wrists and ankles, testing how well restrained he was.

“Hey, hey. Calm it kid. Almost-23. It’s alright, hey?” Walker got to his feet as the kid’s moves grew more frantic. Desperate to escape once more. He approached the kid with hands raised in the universal sign of ‘I come in peace’. “You’re fine. You’ll be fine. I promise.”

“You can’t remove my shirt. You can’t. You’ll find ou- You’ll.” 

“It’s alright. We won’t right now. It’s fine. Deep breaths, there’s a lad. Deep breaths. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Yes I do! You’re making me live!”

The words rang in the silent air, coated by the vibrations and sound of the engine purring in the background. What rebuttal could be offered to that? “Well, yes. May I touch your shoulder? Just your shoulder, no where else.”

Tony, his shoulders heaving once again as he tried to slow his breathing, nodded tremulously. Every muscle was vibrating through his thin form, causing one of the blankets to slip slightly. He fell back into the silence that had served him so well in his previous life, wrapping it around him like the armour it absolutely wasn’t. He missed his armour. His suit. His daughter. His team, even. 

Him.

He missed them all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There. Sorry for the delay in this - I've had a bit of struggle in writing and then my computer died. Still. New, shiny computer Yey!
> 
> Thank you so much for all the comments, kudos and subscriptions I've been getting on this. They really do make me feel so good. ^^
> 
> I'll try not to leave it so long on this (by the by, this hasn't been edited overly well as I was eager to get it out before Sunday finished. If you see any errors please comment! 
> 
> Kind regards,  
> QR

Time was drunk.

That made about as much sense as anything else this evening had, and had the bonus points of explaining how it felt like they’d arrived at the hospital in approximately two seconds as opposed to the ten or so minutes it ought to have been.

A thrill of longing for JARVIS sped through Tony’s veins.

He’d have been able to tell Tony precisely how long it had been, right down to the millisecond, if Tony had so required. 

After the … _discussion_ over his clothes, the other omega EMT had pulled over, concerned that violence was about to erupt in the back of the ambulance and it would be unsafe for his passengers if he continued to drive. 

It had taken Walker and Paula a shamefully short amount of time to slap further (soft) restraints on him. On the plus side? They had, at least, allowed him to keep all his coverings on. 

Paula had stated somewhat dryly that if he was able to flail about that easily then it was unlikely he had any seriously major injuries, though he’d still need to be examined, particularly as she didn’t like the sound of the cough he was uttering every now and again. Walker, Giles, Whatever… The Officer had chosen that time to theatrically begin rubbing at his own scrapes and bruises and mock whine.

It had almost seemed as though he were purposefully drawing Paula’s own ire. As though he’d recognised how anxious Tony was at the idea of having to take his clothes off. After all, once his shirt was removed there wasn’t a hope in hell of him keeping his identity hidden. 

Tony had winced at the other man’s theatrics all the same.

Even if the Officer had only been joking, there was no doubt that both the alphas who had prevented his attempted swan-dive would be sporting a multitude of contusions and sprains. Tony truly hadn’t wanted anyone else to get hurt in his attempts. 

Paula’s reaction had been less sympathetic. 

One bottle of disinfectant and roll of bandages had been swiftly dispatched in the general of direction of Walker’s head. Great velocity and force had been exerted in their rapid ‘gifting’. 

Tony had smirked. It had been kind of amusing, even as Paula threatened Walker with a sling for a fortnight which would cause him to signed off work if he didn’t quit his whinging. 

The way the pair bantered really did forcibly bring memories of Team and how they interacted before Tony had screwed up. 

In order to distract himself from such maudlin thoughts, Tony didn’t try to bite back the snicker. After all, he didn’t feel _that_ guilty. 

After that?

Tony had withdrawn into his thoughts, and nothing Paula or Walker did could draw him back out?

What was going to happen to him from here? Where would he go?

He wasn’t stupid enough to believe that he could keep his identity secret. One glance at the arc reactor would have most people knowing who he was. That topless photograph shoot that Carl had had him do had certainly made people quite aware that the arc reactor was imbedded into his chest. 

It would be evident who he was pretty much from the moment he was inspected for ‘further injuries’. Doubtlessly he wouldn’t be let off from said inspections due to the determination he’d shown in trying to kill himself. They wouldn’t believe that he wasn’t concealing injuries (which of course he was. Nothing major, but there were a few).

He did have a synthesised layer of skin covering the reactor, but it really wouldn’t stand up to a thorough inspection. It was really only intended to block the light from sight.

Then what would happen? The hospital would call his old Team? They certainly wouldn’t want anything to do with him. Particularly not after they found the ‘parcel’ he’d left under J’s care that afternoon. It was all he could cope that they’d look after her.

There was a worse, yet more likely, solution.

They’d call Him. 

Or, you know, send him to the looney bin. That was always a possibility too.

Whichever way he looked? His options were shit. 

Unless he escaped?

That idea was clearly working _so_ well. Tony’s shoulders chose that moment to throb fiercely as if to remind him of precisely how well the idea of escape was going for him. 

The exhausted omega allowed his eyes to slip closed for a moment in a vague attempt to shut out the world. Forget it existed. At least the ache in his shoulders gave him a momentary distraction from the Giant Ball of Ache that the rest of his body was post that night’s activities. Hells, if he were being honest with himself, a habit he had taken to avoiding, some of the aches were due to months, years even, worth of actions. 

That Ache didn’t even begin to disguise the pain positively screaming at him that was his now _two_ overstretched, and swiftly ripping, Bonds.

What would the hospital say if they recognised those? 

A thrill of complete and utter self-loathing shot through him with such strength and suddenness that it made his breath catch.

His daughter.   
His eighteen-month-and-three-week-old daughter. 

They’d somehow already formed a Bond. If… If he was feeling pain from a second over-stretched Bond… then she’d no doubt be feeling the same.

How was that possible? Bonds were typically formed until a child was at least two years old. He’d been so _careful_ , not wanting to cause her any pain when he died. 

They had to go and get her! Now! 

Walker had spent the journey with all his focus placed sharply on the young man, the newly-named ‘Almost-23’. He’d thought they were going to have further troubles early on when the lad kicked up a fuss about having his clothes removed. But that’d soon be sorted without bloodshed. 

And if he’d distracted Paula from continuing with her tender ministrations? Well, that was between him and his conscience. She’d said that she didn’t think he had any serious injuries… and if he had any major illnesses? Then there was little she’d be able to do. It was worth the delay just for the kid to lose that edge of panic that had been keeping his body language so stiff. If Paula got in trouble back at home base? Well, then Walker would step up and take the blame. 

He was always told he used unorthodox methods and was a pain in the proverbial posterior. May as well live up to his reputation, hey? 

After that bit of banter though, it seemed that Almost-23 had slipped away into himself. Both he and Paula had tried to regain his attention – Paula had even tried to grab his attention by laying her hand on his gently. It hadn’t worked. The kid had withdrawn completely into his own head. If he hadn’t smelt the calmest that he’d been so far, then Walker would have been exceedingly worried. 

It was only as they pulled up at the hospital that the kid began showing signs of life once more. 

And not in a good way. 

His face grew dramatically paler causing out the scrapes and odd bruise to stand out even further on the youthful face. He must have started emitting some form of pheromones too as Paula’s nose had begun twitching in synch with his face draining to an eerie shade of bone-white. 

“Almost-23, hun. What’s wrong?” 

Worry had clouded the EMTs expression as she instinctively reached out one hand to cover the boys’ in an attempt to comfort him. 

The kid’s sudden burst of movement after so much stillness made Walker startle. 

With a speed that caused the alpha’s neck to ache in sympathy, Almost-23 flung his head around to stare at the omega-EMT. His eyes were flared in panic as his chest began to heave in an attempt to inhale air; Walker knew his biology well enough to know that adrenaline must be flooding the kid’s circuitry, causing him to try to provide more oxygen to his muscles to enable him to flee.

Fight or flight mode had been activated.

“ta’go. Go. Go. Go. Have to go. Alicia! Alicia! **Alicia! Help her!** ”

Word after word flew from the distressed omega’s mouth at a steadily increasing volume until he was fair bellowing the name ‘Alicia’ over and over again. The man began sawing his wrists back and forth, desperate to escape the clutches of the restrains that were chaining him down. 

Walker blinked for a millisecond, trying to link this man to the one of mere seconds prior, before bounding to his feet and covering the kid’s other hand. With his thumb he began to rub slow circles above the youth’s hammering pulse-point in an attempt to soothe the omega. At the same time, he wrapped his other arm around the man’s shoulders and began to retract it slightly, forcing the omega to lean into his chest in an enforced hug.

Restraint.

Hug.

Same difference, really. 

“Whoa. Cool it Tiger. Come on, come back to me kiddo. Almost-23. Calm down, kiddo. You have to slow down, alright? Slow down and let me know the problem, who do I need to help? Who’s Alicia?”

A cry was tugged from the omega’s throat as his eyes took on a suspiciously shiny sheen. One bound hand struggled to lift to cover his mouth and shove those horrendously wounded sounds back into their place or origin. 

The omega’s whole form continued to vibrate from the tension running through the muscles taut beneath the skin. Walker didn’t try to prevent his free hand from running up to cradle the lad’s head in a further attempt of an embrace, the motion not obscuring the kid’s face. A harrowing picture to behold indeed, causing Walker’s gut to clench at the sheer agony visible. 

A single tear that had been gathering at the corner of Almost-23’s eye slowly grew in size until it spilt over the edge of the lid, swiftly followed by a second, and a third, despite the man’s attempts to blink them away. A growl came from his throat on the edge of another horrible sob as his hands clenched into fists once more. 

Walker’s dual grips tightened, and that grip seemed to break the iron-strong barriers and shove the kid over the edge. Sobs began to tear from the belaboured omega, great, heaving sobs that shook his from almost as much as the shaking.

It wasn’t as pretty a sight as the movies made out. No delicate reddened rims with tears drooping prettily from crystal-clear, large eyes. No graceful little huffs and sighs.

No. This was pain. Half-strangled sounds torn from an unwilling throat. Tremours strong enough to send convulsions wracking through an entire film. Nose leaking almost as much as the eyes themselves. 

Walker just knew that if the omega was left to his own resources then those clenched fists would be covering his mouth, his eyes, doing his utmost best to shove those sounds back deep within the throat they came from. Remove all traces of this lack of control.

How he knew that? He didn’t know.

While that option wasn’t open to the omega, Walker did the best he could. He rubbed the kid’s pulse points soothingly, and kept on arm embracing him as best he could, making little ‘hush’ing noises. He very purposefully _didn’t_ tell the kid useless platitudes such as ‘everything’ll be fine’. Far too many cases like this didn’t have happy endings, so he wasn’t going to waste the kids energy by promising so. 

Barely a minute later, the kid’s body crashed, his frame not having enough substance to it to sustain the high levels of adrenaline that were f lowing through his veins. A bone-rattling vibration instead took over from his attempts to escape and Walker was left suddenly holding up the panting, trembling omega rather than holding him still.

The kid’s eyes flew upwards in an attempt to meet the alpha’s as his tongue poked out, trying to moisten his terror-dried out lips enough to allow him to speak.

“Al-“

He began once, before his voice gave out on him refusing to support the sound that was trying to emit.

Annoyance flitted over his expression momentarily before he tried again. “Alicia. Please. My Bond to her. It’s hurting. She’ll be hurting. Please.”

Walker had never felt more grateful to the pills he had access to being on the Force. The sense of pleading that was pouring from that kid’s eyes suggested that if he’d been able to scent the near torrential levels of desperation this omega had to have been near radiating, then he’d barely have been able to withstand it. 

He figured the kid had been pretty desperate to kill himself. That was absolutely _nothing_ compared to these new levels of despair. 

“Alright, alright. Where is she? You have to calm down, think rationally, and tell me where she is and I’ll get her here.” 

The kid’s face paled even further somehow as his fingers flexed in an attempt to grip onto something. Anything. Walker readily provided his hand hoping to steady the youth.

“She’s my daughter. Alicia González. She’s a baby. Not even two years old. She’s too _young_ to have formed a bond. I’d never have tried… She won’t know why she’s in pain! She’ll be crying for me. She’ll-“

“Shhh. Alright, calm down.” Walker felt a thread of fear run through him, just a baby? If she was going into any form of pain from an over-stretched bond at this age? That could kill her. Cause her heart to just to stop beating. “You’re a good lad, Almost-23. You’re a good Mother to her, I know you would never have knowingly done this.” The shock the kid was in for infinite proof of that! “Just tell me where she is.”

“Stark Tower. Ask JARVIS. The Avengers, hopefully. _please_ ” 

Walker blinked.

Stark Tower? Was Almost-23 having some form of break from reality?

Tony felt his gut clench as he saw the disbelief cross over Walker’s face.

“Please. You must believe me. I’m not crazy. I’m Tony Stark, look at me! Imagine me with a goatee and in a million-dollar suit. Please. You have to help Alicia! Let me go to her. Please!”

Walker’s frown deepened. Mentally, he did as the omega suggested. There was a resemblance… 

His concentration was broken by a gasp of recognition from Paula.

“Walker, he’s right. I remember from a magazine that Stark called his daughter Alicia. Mr. Stark, how…?”

 _”Please!”_ Stark, and Paula was right, the man before him was a dead ringer for Tony Stark. Stark swallowed, visibly trying to regain some form of self control. “Please. Just… just ring the Tower, get my daughter. I’ll...I’ll do anything.” 

That was enough to get Walker moving. 

“Can you give me the number?” he asked as he swiftly removed his cell from his pocket, and stabbed in the number that Stark quickly rattled off.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, really sorry this took so long. Dead laptop (which is still dead - I handwrote the majority of this chapter!) plus busy-ness, plus just bleh. 
> 
> Thank you again for all the subscriptions/kudos!  
> Enjoy. ^^

Someone clearly had too much spare time on their hands.

Barely a second after Walker had dialled the final digit a cool English-accented voice answered the phone causing Walker to blink. The phone hadn’t even made a ringing sound…?

Far too much time on their hands if they could answer the phone that quickly.

“Good evening, Officer Walker. My records certify that you ought not to have access to this number. Please indicate immediately how you acquired it before I am forced to proceed with further measures.”

Walker blinked again, his sharp concern momentarily derailed by the unexpectedness of the situation. This shift was fast becoming more and more…surreal. How on Earth…? This was his work phone. It shouldn’t have Caller ID. Walker resisted the urge to shake his head in confusion, and admittedly, some alarm, as he quickly dragged his flaking attention back. Now was not the time to lose focus, no matter how heavy the exhaustion was beginning to settle into his bones. He wasn’t going home until this situation was at least somewhat sorted, no matter how late it made him. 

“The threats are unnecessary, son. I have Almo- Mr. Stark here with me. You apparently have his daughter, Alicia? Mr. Stark is concerned that she is suffering from an over-extended bond. If someone could get her here to St Luke’s Hospital, Amsterdam Ave this side of straight away…The entrance is right by that giant glass walkway in the middle of the street.” Alright, so he could partially do the formal talk. Damn stuffy Brits.

Walker allowed his words to trail away, unwilling to voice the potential risks aloud. Almost-23, Tony, Mr. Stark. The Omega. _Him_ was obviously well aware his daughter would be in pain, but hadn’t seemed to clock onto the fact that she would quite easily die. At this age? Kids were rarely two feet away from either one of their parents. They were still growing used to their bodies, scents, senses. Bonds didn’t usually form until they were about three as it gave their bodies time to develop, but if Tony was already feeling the effects of a stretched Bond, then… it could easily be very not good. 

Walker was determined to not lead Tony straight to that knowledge if he hadn’t thought if it himself. The kid was under far too much stress as was. If the babe did die? Then they’d cross that hurdle then. 

The English Pompous Voice replied, worry clear in his tone despite the order, “Put Mr. Stark on the line. Agents Romanoff and Barton were on their way the minute I identified your location. They will be with you in approximately nine minutes with Alicia.”

Walker chose not to argue. It was unlikely they’d make that time in the New York City traffic, even at this time of night, but the alpha had long ago given up on remonstrating concerned relatives or friends about either their lack of manners or common sense. Instead Giles just held up the phone against Tony’s ear. 

“It’s for you,” he said needlessly with a tired smile at the lad. Hopefully this conversation would distract Mr. Stark slightly, Walker had no doubt that the man at the end of the phone was anything other than deeply concerned about the omega before him. 

“J? Is…Is that you? Alicia! Is she- Where…?” 

Well, Walker hadn’t had _that_ much hope that the famously focused engineer would be distracted. 

The words that began to stream from the omega’s lips caused another wrench to run through Walker. He’d seen the man before him perform speeches on television whilst obviously three sheets to the wind or concussed and barely upright from some battle or other, or even just dead on his feet from exhaustion that make-up couldn’t quite conceal. Never before had he his voice held anything other than brash confidence. That note of uncertainty it currently held… it just sounded wrong. Nothing like the image of the man that the media portrayed.

Now. Walker wasn’t anything like naïve enough to presume that the media displayed an accurate representation of the man. Or that the man didn’t have some form of ‘media-face.’ All celebrities did. It was their only defence against the vultures that journalists could be. Yet still… it was unsettling to see The Iron Man brought this low. He was a super hero! An idol to millions. He’d helped save New York City countless times, even though he was an omega. 

Heroes shouldn’t be brought this low. Even if they were people too. 

Not that Walker _blamed_ Mr. Stark. Or thought less of him for it. He knew himself well enough though to know that he was unsettled. Heroes couldn’t lose. A stupidly naïve thought, but one that Walker just couldn’t shake.

Giles did do his best to not eavesdrop on the obviously private conversation between the omega and this ‘J’. It was hard. He could hear the rumbling vibrations, echoes of words, emit from the cellular device, and the young man’s responses in a voice high-pitched from tension. In an effort to not listen to the actual words being spoken, Walker instead focused on Stark’s body language. It was interesting watching him. Desperate worry was still obvious in every iota of his body, from the clenched fists to the light trembling that was horribly obvious. Yet despite that desperation, he was still looking more relaxed than previously. His face, although still shrouded by dirt and scrapes that only made it harder to read his expression just didn’t have the same level of tension. This ‘J’ was obviously someone he cared for a great deal.

“Shouldn’t we go meet them somewhere?”

Paula voiced her opinion quietly after the phone conversation had been going on for barely a minute, “Every second really could count in this situation.” She was obviously as sharply familiar with the knowledge that Walker himself was that the babe could quite easily die.

Walker was about to reply when Stark himself interrupted them both wish a shake of his head. Apparently he hadn’t been as singularly engrossed in his conversation as both Walker and Paula had believed.

“Th-They’ll be here in about six minutes – J said they’re taking the quinjet.” 

Walker fixed the his gaze on the omega, trying to understand the emotions flying from him. He didn’t like that stutter that had returned when talking about Romanoff and Barton. They were two of the Avengers, weren’t they? Walker didn’t know the ins and outs of the interpersonal relationships between the team, but they’d always appeared to work together well…

Yet going from Tony’s oh-so expressive face… Nerves. Desperation. Terror, even. Terror that blotted out just about all the other emotions. Why would he be feeling these now? Walker was definitely not going to allow these two to be alone with Tony until he knew more about the situation.

“Let’s get you read to head inside then,” Paula announced, evidently feeling more confident now that she was back on familiar grounds rather than the more murky waters of unexpected superheroes with stretched Bonds who had apparently been ready to kill themselves post living on the streets. All in a day’s work…right? 

Both she and the other paramedic who came round from the front of the ambulance both retained their cautiousness around Tony. They barely let him out of his restraints for the second it took to transfer him to the wheelchair, and replaced them straight away. An action Walker really didn’t see the need for. He doubted that even the Hulk would be able to shift Tony now. Not when his daughter needed him and her arrival was so imminent. This was not a young man who was going to run. Not now.

But still. He held his peace. They were the medical professionals, and Tony was half under their jurisdiction now even if he hadn’t been officially signed over yet. 

Minutes later the three of them were waiting by the glass doors of the entrance, sheltered from the light rain that had begun as they watched the Bus drive off. Tony’s ‘condition’ had progressed; his entire body was trembling violently from the force of the anxiety thrumming through his veins, the movement visible despite the fact he was in a wheelchair and covered by several blankets. His distress was so strong that even Walker was able to smell it, despite his scent-blocking drugs.

Paula was riveted to Tony’s side, crouched down so as to put herself at an even height with him. One hand was resting gently on his hand as she a soft trilling noise emitted from her throat in an effort to soothe him. 

Walker was purposefully allowing the comforting sound, resembling that o a female canine soothing her pups, to comfort his own jangled nerves. The distressed scents wafting his way weren’t affecting him as strongly as they could have been, but it was still going to his head. He didn’t want to even think about what must be running through the young omega’s head. From the pain of the overstretched bond to the concern for his daughter. Let alone whatever else had driven a man with supposedly the world at his feet to want to kill himself. Didn’t he have a Bonded as well? What happened to him? 

Walker’s ponderings, an effort to distract himself from the decidedly alpha urge to pace, were interrupted by the quiet thrumming noise of a powerful engine. As the sound drew closer, Tony froze in his seat, the tremors drawing to an instant halt as every muscle must have locked up. Walker could even see how every muscle was held tight as the kid threw himself as far forward in the chair as his medical-grade cuffs allowed.

Paula silenced herself as she pushed herself to her feet, her hand trailing upwards until it was resting comfortably on Tony’s shoulder, stroking the limb softly in a motion that was somehow both comforting and protective in nature. 

Giles glanced downwards at his watch as the plane that he had never seen anywhere besides a television screen slowly set down, easily avoiding the glass walkway that connected the departments together. A tendril of amusement curled through him. Nine minutes exactly. The plane, a quinjet as Tony had called it, landed neatly in the street, bereft of all the vehicles that were usually packed in like sardines due to the late hour. 

Mere seconds after that? The engine powered down, a low humming sound that truly did sound like something from a science fiction film, and a ramp lowered allowing the wailing cries of a baby in pain to reach the ears of those waiting. Echoing whimpers began to emit from Tony’s own throat as he began to violently rock himself back and forth, desperate to break the restraints so that he could reach his daughter. His pup.

Walker, throwing caution and protocol to the wind, immediately released the wrist cuff closest to him, pleased to see that Paula echoed his movement without argument. He was just about to remove the chest-band when the figure carrying the baby was at their side. She was a tall woman, evidently an alpha, with a shock of bright red hair Walker knew just had to have come from a bottle. Not that there was any way he’d ever voice such a thought… he easily recognised her as The Black Widow. 

He did prefer his balls remained attached to him, after all.

The Black Widow, without preamble or word of greeting, near shoved the screaming child into her mother’s arms which closed around them and drew them into a chest that was heaving with sobs once more. It was as though the sobs transferred bodies. As soon as she was enclosed in the safe cage Alicia’s wails softened to mere whimpers as silent tears poured down Tony’s face while he gently stroked the back of her head and peppered her face with kisses.

“Sorry, my love, sorry. Sorry. Sorry.” The whispered word poured over and over again from Tony’s mouth, making Walker wince. The kid would never forgive himself for this. The smells still pouring out of him forced the urge to interpose himself in between the other alpha and pair in the chair. An urge he didn’t suppress. He still didn’t know what the situation was between Tony and his team. 

Natasha raised one perfect eyebrow as the officer, JARVIS had identified him as a ‘Giles Walker’, near shoved himself in between her and Tony. She didn’t growl. Such traditionally alpha displays were beneath her. Instead she allowed her steady scrutiny to express her annoyance for her. She boldly fixed her gaze onto the alpha’s eyes, staring at him directly in a fashion that none would mistake as being anything other than challenging. She couldn’t decide if this man was extremely stupid, or extremely brave; both character traits were really far too similar to distinguish the difference sometimes. Either way, the end result would be the same.

This pup would not separate her from Tony.

She took one step towards the omega who was cradling his pup so tenderly yet was halted by an unexpected hand to her chest, preventing her ongoing movement. 

“Excuse me m’am,” came the unexpected words. She’d expected some form of growl, or other expression, “If you would please be so kind as to wait there until I’ve further assessed the situation? I understand you’re worried about Mr. Stark here, but he’s been scenting mighty anxious since you turned up, and I want to make sure that he’s happy before I allow you any closer.”

Natasha’s expression deepened into a scowl, only partially put on, the man was courageous rather than stupid, it appeared. And it was true; the stench of Tony’s fear was obvious to her sensitive nose. Yet… why was he so afraid? They hadn’t parted on the best of terms, it was true. Tony had been becoming more and more unreliable until it had reached the stage where it was hit and miss as to whether he would turn up on missions or not. Steve had had to drop him from the team. So, yes. Tony hadn’t been pleased – as evidenced by the swift removal of himself and his Bonded, Carl, to Malibu. But there was no reason to be this afraid, was there? What had happened to her previously prickly omega team-mate? 

This man before her was nothing like the proud omega she recalled. 

Although his frame was obscured somewhat by the blankets and wheelchair, Natasha’s keen gaze could easily pick out how much weight the man had lost. He was rake thin, and he’d never been large to begin with. He was filthy, and under-dressed. Dried blood was easily visible in the harsh lighting of the hospital entrance, and it was hopefully that harsh lighting that was making Tony look so wan and death-like. His skin was waxy and dead looking, where it wasn’t broken up by scrapes, instead of the vibrant golden tan colouring it had previously held. 

None of that was as bad as the terror that she could still smell. 

What the _hell_ had happened to him?

She felt, rather than heard, Clint’s sudden appearance by her side, felt him stiffen as he too registered the poor condition Tony was in, smelt the anger that began to waft off the beta man as it stung at her nose. 

At least anger was better than the worry that had been consuming the whole team since JARVIS had reported Alicia’s presence in the tower. The others were still out looking for Tony, although it was more likely that they were currently on their way to the hospital. Clint and Natasha had just swapped out with Bruce and Steve on child-care when JARVIS reported that he was receiving a call.

She returned her gaze to the alpha officer, a hint of the deep fury she was feeling now visible. “We did not do this,” though whether they were partially responsible? That was another question. 

Her gaze then flitted down to the omega who had yet to look at them fully, instead staring down at his daughter, now fast asleep. Was he avoiding them? Or was this some form of new submissive behaviour? Before the man had left he had begun displaying slightly more submissive traits. Natasha would have been concerned if this was not usual for some omegas on dating a new alpha. 

It had been a surprise that Tony would alter himself, but many did. That and the other Avengers had been getting so annoyed by his unreliability it wasn’t odd that he’d been using more submissive body language around them. 

“Antoshka…” her voice was a hundred times softer than when she’d been speaking to the officer. Surprise at the use of the familiar old nickname caused Tony to flick his eyes in her direction; it had been some time since she’d used it.

“Antoshka, may I approach?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most importantly of all:
> 
> Thank you so much for all the comments/kudos/subscriptions I’ve received on this! Even when I’ve been slow reply I really, really appreciate this. 
> 
> Secondly: Sorry for the delay – excuses are laid out below and do get quite personal, so feel absolutely free to skip it. Various excuses are reason this is short too, I just wanted to sit down and write, so I did. This chapter has not been thought over, or edited, or much of anything. I just wanted to post it, so here we go. ^^;;
> 
> TLDR; Lots of crap going on, writing not up to usual standard, but wanted to post. Apologies and thank you again! 
> 
> Talking about personal shit so feel free to skip this amendment – absolutely nothing noteworthy to read about within it. ^^ Just me having a moan and gripe.
> 
> I’m so sorry for the delay over this and for its brevity. I moved countries back in November, and from there moved in with 10 people. Found it a bit of a struggle to get into a good headspace to write. 
> 
> I’m not a fan of talking about personal things online, and really don’t want any pity – not why I’m writing this, but I haven’t really told anyone about some of this and just after my room-mate today told me that I’d been a bit down and needed to cheer up? Just wanted to tell someone I guess. 
> 
> Past two months: My grandmother died, my best friend committed suicide (after I tried to talk them out of it via Skype) – their Mom now blames me. Bunch of crap from friends back home for me not dropping everything and running back home to help them out after said friend. Two days ago: miscarriage resulting from unwanted sex six weeks back. 
> 
> Really sorry for the most unusual off-loading. Just… crap day. Wanted to tell someone, so told a bunch of strangers. Priorities, hey?

Without even thinking about it, Tony instinctively as a low growl emitted from deep within his chest, drew the sleeping Alicia closer into his chest, a wave of completely irrational fear crashing over him that she’d wish to take his child away from him. Maybe wouldn’t believe he was capable of looking after her, he’d clearly done a stellar job so far, right? Had dumped her on them, and then nearly had her killed through an over-stretched Bond. What kind of parent was he?

“Antoshka, I’m not going to take her, I promise. I just…” She broke off, uncertain about how to phrase her intentions. Wanted to what? Wanted to comfort him. Wanted to make sure he wasn’t as broken as he appeared? Wanted to reassure herself that he was alive? All of these things were to benefit her. At the moment? He was the important one. “I’ll remain here.”

Clint started with surprise, glancing towards her with a near unreadable expression. They’d remain here? But… 

Natasha elbowed him in the side the moment she saw his mouth open to disagree, and she nodded at the omega, willing Clint to read the same anxiety that she could. “We won’t come any closer than this, Antoshka.” She re-iterated, pleased to see the man’s shoulders relax slightly as neither of his two teammates moved any closer.

The officer, Walker, rested one hand on Tony’s shoulder, a comforting gesture, and without removing his gaze from the pair of Avengers spoke to the nurse and Tony both. “Right. With that settled, let’s get you two inside, hey ‘Almost-23’. We should get you both checked out.” 

Natasha’s lip curled as she scented the wave of anxiety that rolled of Tony at the officer’s words, and resisted with everything within her to snap at Walker, informing him that they’d be taking Tony home where he could be checked out by Bruce and they could let Carl know where he was. 

Clint’s once again opening mouth earnt him another elbow to the ribs as Natasha prevented the beta from saying precisely what she was just thinking. Clint turned a hurt glare on the Alpha, only subsiding at her firm head-shake. This was Tony’s show, and they would do nothing other than what he wished.

Reading that within her eyes, Clint nodded, accepting her judgement.

Nearly three hours later found the entire team combined with an exhausted Officer Walker sitting in a private room on one of the top floors of the hospital. Both Tony and Alicia had been checked over carefully, with Alicia being labelled as in good health whilst Tony definitely required improvement. Bruises, some going bone-deep, and grazes littered his form along with a deep gash adorning his entire right side. He had a sprained ankle, which did cause Walker to look somewhat shame-faced, and a torn tendon in both his rotator cuff and knee. His ribs were bruised, and the doctors had hmm’d and haa’d over some of his x-rays. Though about what, they hadn’t mentioned yet. All of that along with malnutrition, dehydration, mild puenomia and, just to top off the list, mild hypothermia along with near every other thing linked to exhaustion the doctors could label, make up, or diagnose meant that he’d be kept under maintenance for quite some time.

The omega had had blood-work done and all were still eagerly awaiting the results to check any other illnesses/issues he had, but Walker was fairly certain he definitely had enough to be going on with. 

The frustrating thing? The kid himself hadn’t said a single word since the Avengers had arrived. His face had barely twitched. Walker was quietly going insane. He refused to leave until he had some certainty that Tony was going to be alright, and that certainly wasn’t occurring with the Avengers present. Yet. They. Wouldn’t. Leave.

Captain America (!) had offered to contact Carl, and that had been the only reaction Tony had made. The stench of fear that had hurled off Tony had made even Walker’s drug-dulled nose twitch, and that had swiftly drawn an end to that topic. The Black Widow had gone impressively stone-faced at the reaction and the team had exchanged a myriad of glances, no doubt some silent conversation that had gone right over Walker’s head.

Fuck them.

Walker realised that he was beyond acting professional, and was breaking a tonne of different rules, but he was going to see this through to the end. His excuse for staying here? Tony still hadn’t given him a statement, and nothing was going to make him leave until that had happened. No matter how many glares he received from some of the most terrifying individuals he’d ever met. Officer Walker was from North Carolina. Stubborness ran through his blood. 

Still, that did lead to the current situation. Tony in the attached bathroom (which Walker had scanned through to check there was nothing he could harm himself with) having an unauthorised and unadvised shower, baby Alicia asleep on the bed that Tony was meant to be on, with the Avengers all against one wall and Walker against the other. Firing squad time? Walker bit back the oncoming laugh. Gods, he was _exhausted_. He was no young pup to be pulling these hours any longer.

He was just about to try and extend a hand of peace to the others when Barton, Hawkeye’s head perked up from where it had been slumped against his chest, and he darted into the bathroom before any of the others could make a move.

“Wait!” The Black Widow snapped on seeing Walker make a move in the same direction. “Let Clint handle this.” Walker stared her once more in the eyes before acquiescing, and waiting, every muscle tense and coiled.

For Tony? It had been a horrific few hours. Doctors poking him. Everyone uncovering everything he’d tried to keep hidden over the past few years. Judging him. Hating him. It was amazing they were allowing him to have this shower, he must look that pathetic. 

The exhausted omega tilted his head upwards, luxuriating in the heat that was finally beginning to overtake the chill that had been wracking him, enjoying it for a moment before the drops of water suddenly sent him flying back into the past.

Tony’s legs buckled from underneath him, unable to hold his shuddering form. He fell to the floor, the soft thud muffled by the steaming water thundering down on him. “Can’t do it. Can’t. Can’t.” Wave after wave of terror assaulted the broken billionaire as he wrapped his arms around his ankles, drawing them closer to his body as further protection to his battered body. His head fell onto his knees as the strength to hold it upright slipped from his body.

Every fibre cried out for him to escape the torment he was going through. He. He couldn’t breathe! His head. It was surrounded by water, each stunted breath dragging water into his lungs. There was a hand there, holding his head down, ignoring his straining neck muscles as he fought to raise his head, ignoring the renewed agony from his broken shoulder. No air! Freedom... freedom was a hallucination. A dream. 

His world was nothing more than bubbles drifting, floating past his head and a hand holding him down while another hand fiddled with his torn ass. How well he knew this game. The thrusts from behind would make him gasp in pain, or maybe howl, depending on how big the article They inserted into him was. That would bring water into his lungs, causing him to cough, choke, writhe. He’d then be hit, punishment for resistance, and the cycle would begin anew. Round and round and round. Again and again. Never ending. Pain. Hands. Torture. Hands. No reason. No air!

A low keening sound caught the hyperventilating man’s ears and he noted, to his surprise, it was emitting from him. How he could make the noise through the water swirling through his lungs he was unsure. But… wait. Was there water in his lungs? He couldn’t feel any. He couldn’t feel any water at all. His clothes were certainly sodden through, the wet material swiftly cooling as it clung to him, turning the shudders that wracked his body into trembling from the cold. Clothes? Since when was he allowed clothes? One of the first things they’d done was remove his clothes. He would get in trouble! He’d think he’d stolen the clothes from somewhere.

As his breathing sped up even further, a voice reached his ears, and a solid, warm arm enveloped his shoulders and knees, drawing him into a gentle hug, despite his initial flinch and struggle to escape before he remembered The Rules. “-ony, it’s alright Tony. Calm down. Breathe. It’s alright Tony. You’re fine. You’re not there. It’s just me, Clint. The water’s gone, it’s all gone.” The voice continued speaking; a soothing murmur against the silence only broken by Tony’s panicked attempts at breathing. He could even feel the voice, rumbling in the solid chest he was being held against. It was a good kind of hold though. There was no feeling of restrained, just… held. Comforted.

“Tony? Can you hear me?” The voice altered slightly, a coaxing tone entering its pitch as it tried to draw a response from him. Tony nodded slightly, hoping the voice would be able to differentiate the movement from the rest of the shudders jarring his body. “That’s good.” Huh… Apparently it could, if Tony was to judge from the pleased tone that had entered it. 

Smart voice.

“Just keep on breathing, focus on my voice. You’re completely safe here. I promise. Keep on breathing. Let’s see if we can’t slow that down a bit, hey Tony? Come on, you can do it. Listen to my voice, feel my hand. Breathe in…and out. In…. and out. That’s great!” As the voice continued talking, one of the hands enveloping his upper torso began to move up and down in time with his words. 

Tony began to try to regulate his panicked breaths with the movements of the hand, taking a deep breath in for when it was up, and releasing said breath as the hand fell. It was hard work, trying to force the panic roaring through his chest **away** so he could breathe smoothly. Yet the voice kept on reassuring him, grounding him, and the hand kept on stroking his arm until his breath was interrupted by nothing more than the occasional hitch.

“Clint…” Tony whispered as the voice, no. Clint’s voice continued its soothing litany. Clint halted what he was saying mid-word as he tried to tuck his head down in an effort to see the omega’s face despite the fact it was still buried within his knees. “Hey you. Welcome back. You alright?” The pitch was somehow even lower and more soothing than when he’d been talking Tony down from his panic attack. Something within it. The words. The tone. Something. Caused Tony’s resolve to break.

His shaking renewed as he loosened one arm from the death grip had had around his knees and flung it around Clint’s shoulders in a desperate move. “I’m sorry!” The words ripped themselves from his throat as tears began to force themselves from behind his eyes. His whole body vibrated with his failed attempts to suppress the sobs erupting from his thin frame. It was too much. The combination of an Afghanistan flashback, mixed in with memories from Carl… he just couldn’t.

“Oh, Tony…” Clint maneuvered his body so Tony was able to all but fall into it, being careful to not move his arms from the embrace that seemed to be all but holding the omega together. “Tony… you’ve done nothing to be sorry for.” He did nothing to shush the man he held opting instead for silence as he held the fragile form wracked by long overdue sobs.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright-y. Sorry for the delay once again folks, at least it's a decent (ish...) length chapter. I've barely read this over as I wanted to get it posted, so there are likely to be some edits to grammar and the like. Hope you enjoy and thank you so, so much to all those incredibly supportive comments from the last chapter. I was incredibly touched. 
> 
> In addition, thank you very much to all the kudos and subscriptions too. :) Muchily appreciated!

Clint Barton, beta, Archer-Extraordinaire(!) That title must always be accompanied by a ‘!’ – the circus was all about the glamour after all), superhero, and however else he chose to identify himself, was quite thoroughly in a conundrum. 

Wrapped within his arms was his ex-teammate, who also happened to be an omega. That was where the issue began even though that theoretically shouldn’t have been an issue at all. The fact that Tony was shivering on top of having hypothermia made it a rather large issue. The further fact that Clint was unsure whether Tony was shaking due to cold or ‘substantial levels of emotional upheaval’ (or so the SHIELD shrinks would call it) was yet another issue.

Clint was well aware that he should be encouraging Tony back to the heating pads laid out on his bed. To his daughter. To the blankets. 

He _knew_ that.

But the fact that this was an emotional omega who was still emitting scents of distress? That was making it very hard to convince his hindbrain to listen to sense. The fact that it was an omega he cared about just made it all the harder.

Now, normally betas didn’t have the protective sense that alphas were so renowned for, it was true. Yet what were people for if not to be unpredictable every now and again? There were always people who broke the mould; alphas who preferred to be protected, omegas who weren’t remotely submissive and betas who preferred to stir and not be the glue which held society together. 

Those people weren’t all that uncommon either. Society tended to accept them just fine.

Society was cooler than seventy-odd years ago when everything had been much more regimented. 

There had been peaceful protest marches back in the seventies about how wanted to be more ‘gender-fluid’ – the thing that had really caught people’s attention though was that the marches had involved people from all genders. Alphas. Betas. Omegas. Everyone had been unhappy with the status quo. 

So the status quo was altered. 

It hadn’t happened overnight, sure, and things weren’t right yet. But they were improving. 

People certainly seemed less judgemental if you didn’t fit into the expected role at any rate. Hell, kids were being taught in schools that you didn’t have to follow what stereotypes suggested – that was always a massive step forward.

Anyway, those were all procrastinating thoughts about why it was so damned difficult for him to stop trying to soothe Tony when it was obvious to his more logical thought process that this wasn’t what the man needed.

Time to kick his hindbrain into gear before Tony grew even sicker than he already was. 

“Hey, Tony? You registering me still, man?” 

Tony nodded slightly, a bare jostle of his head against Clint’s neck that could easily have been caused by the shuddering the other man was doing. Clint chose to interpret it as a nod.

“Alright, I’m going to stand up and grab a towel, alright? Then get you changed out of those damp clothes and then we can get you back with the little’un and warmed up, does that sound alright? I know you’re tired, so you just sit here and let me do all the work.”

Was this how Natasha felt the majority of the time? Contemplating every word and action before she performed it? Weighing up how to act right down to the tiny minutiae. 

It seemed important to make sure that Tony knew precisely what was going on, and Clint got consent to his plan – there was something very obviously wrong here, and Clint was beginning to have nasty suspicions that Carl, Tony’s Bonded, was at the bottom of it. The only thing that the Tony had reacted to over the past few hours had been someone mentioning getting in contact with him. It hadn’t been a positive reaction. The group had, as a whole, elected to not mention the man again until Tony was more lucid. Then decisions would be made. 

With that in mind then the consent was even more important. Clint had noted with surprise how much power Tony had given up to Carl; prior to their meeting he had always been… rambunctious. Chatty. In control. He had changed hugely during the course of his relationship, but many people did on meeting their Bonded. Nonetheless, it seemed important to let Tony make decisions for himself – divorce himself from Carl within Tony’s, admittedly addled, mind.

With that in mind, Clint hadn’t even wanted to mention Alicia by name in case the thought of her drove Tony out of this half-daze he was settling in to. This docility was pretty terrifying to look at, but if it meant that Tony was losing that scent of panic that had drawn Clint into the bathroom? Then that was only a good thing. Keep the man calm, keep him relaxed, get him into bed and sleeping. Then see what tomorrow would bring. That was Clint’s mission. 

If this was how Natasha’s mind worked then Clint’s estimation of her rose even higher than before. It was fucking confusing! Not to speak of exhausting. 

Tony’s barely there nod repeated itself, so hopefully the omega was at least a little more with it than he appeared. 

He appeared to be in some advanced state of shock, interrupted only those horrific intermittent trembles. He looked so… tiny. It was a cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason, right? 

Consent given, Clint made sure Tony was braced by one hand before pushing himself to his feet with a muttered groan. He was getting too old to be sitting on shower-stall floors with shell-shocked teammates having some form of mental break-down, damnit! He reached out with his spare hand and snagged the towel that was handily hanging on the rail. Maybe it wouldn’t be as soft as the Billionaire was used to, but it would dry him off a great deal better than the cool air that all hospitals seemed to harbour. 

“Alright there, Tony. I’m going to start to get these wet clothes off now, alright?” 

It seemed somehow extra important to make sure Tony gathered that this was happening. You know, flashbacks and all, his mind clearly wasn’t quite with it. 

“Can you respond to me verbally, Shellhead? Just want to make sure we’re on the same page and all.” 

“…k.”

The slurred response did very little to reassure Clint. Maybe it would be better to try and rub him dry a bit first? See if that would stir some life into the omega. It didn’t matter if this towel got too wet – there were always more. It was so stupid of no one to go into the shower with Tony, just to make sure that he was alright. So foolish of them. 

It had seemed important at the time to give him a few moments to collect himself. To assimilate everything that was happening.

Maybe that’s what the billionaire they knew before would have needed. This version of Tony was clearly a different kettle of fish.

Without further pause, Clint crouched back down so the omega was safely encased within his bent knees and wrapped the towel around the billionaire’s shoulders. The beta then proceeded to vigorously rub his hands up and down the man’s shoulders in an attempt to stimulate warmth and dry him simultaneously. 

Initially, Tony just sat there, allowing the movements to happen in a passive fashion that ill-suited the man. However, after a moment or two, one hand slowly reached out and caught at the two ends of the fabric, pulling them around his thin frame tighter so as to encase the warmth caused by Clint’s energetic actions. 

Clint grinned at the physical response – it seemed like there was indeed life! Now, how to proceed… Getting Tony changed and into warm clothes seemed imperative. He slowed his rubbing down so that the rustle of the towel wouldn’t detract from his words. At least the man’s arms had some colour to them now! Even if it was only reddened by friction. 

“You hold that there, Tony. I’m just going to get you some clothes to change into, alright? I’ll be one minute, two tops.”

Clint again paused, waiting until he received a response from the exhausted omega before pushing up from his crouched position (damn knees). He once again made sure that Tony was securely positioned and not likely to topple over without the archer’s physical support before hurrying back into the main room to get some of the hospital-issued clothes he was sure he’d spotted previously. 

The contrasting scents on entering the bedroom made him halt briefly – tension and irritation being the strongest things he could smell. “Hey, guys!” he snapped, glaring at each team member and the cop who was for some reason still present. “Tone that down, now!” So what if it wasn’t his place to be giving orders; if Tony came in here smelling that then all of Clint’s hard work would be for naught. “Tony’s alright – was having some issues but we’re getting there.”

Yes, if the cop wasn’t there then he might have said more. Yet if the cop wasn’t there then the room probably wouldn’t have stunk so of tension. However… if the cop wasn’t there, then it was likely that Tony wouldn’t have been either. Clint _wanted_ to be irritated with the man, particularly as he was so obviously there because he didn’t trust the Avengers with Tony in this fragile state. 

Yet…

Why was Tony in this fragile state? Someone had let the ball drop, and Clint was having the nasty suspicion that it really was partially their fault.

Maybe the cop had reasons to be annoyed and distrusting with them. 

But now was not the time! They could settle all this when Tony was resting comfortably. 

“I was about to suggest that you all head to the cafeteria to settle this, but I’m guessing you,” and here he nodded at Walker, “won’t be willing to do that. Give me a bit longer and get Tony into bed and sleeping, then we can talk. He’s the important one here, not whatever drama we’re all cooking up between us, right?” 

Without waiting for a response, Clint carried on through the room as though he had everyone’s assent and picked up the clothes he had spied on the bed. He wasn’t interested in disagreements right now. 

As soon as Hawkeye re-entered the bathroom, clothes in hand, Walker turned his attention back on the Avengers who were still lined up against the opposite wall and just radiating tension.

How could he alter this situation? He’d had training at dealing with people damnit, and his Ma had brought him up to display some form of manners, surely? He could do this, defuse this tension. Find out quite how culpable these guys were, and then see Tony settled.

Walker determinedly ignored the uneasy churning in his gut at the thought that the Avengers could somehow be responsible for the state of Nearly-2—Tony. That level of uneasiness was right up there with the idea that heroes could be hurt. Was worse, really. 

Game time.

Walker did not even attempt to retain the hefty sigh that fled his lungs and making his entire upper torso inflate. Nor did he prevent his hand from reaching up, almost of its own will, to rub at the back of his neck in the most stereotypical example of exhaustion ever.

Walker snorted, absurdly amused at himself for being such a walking cliché. 

“Right then lads, lass. Hawkeye’s right, let’s clear this tension quickly, hey? You’re mad at me because I obviously don’t trust you and am refusing to leave you alone with the kid in there, right?” He lifted one eyebrow in a deliberately cocky fashion as he aimed his words at Captain America rather than the group as a whole. Made him less nervous that way.

“I’m pretty certain I’m right on that, so will just continue to lay out the facts as I see them.” Walker hiked his eyebrow up further as the Captain’s mouth opened as if to interrupt. Walker refused to raise his voice with the kid still in earshot, but damn the man if he thought he could just interrupt Walker mid-sort-of-rant.

“You. Will. Wait. I’m speaking.” 

That was said with all the force of a southern-born cop, no increase in volume, but with a deep undercurrent of fury and yes, threat, buried within his tone. His Ma would’ve been proud.

“As I was saying. I was called out to try and stop this suicidal, homeless kid from making himself a smear on the banks of the river in Hudson Heights.” He kept his wording purposefully graphic and relished the flinch which ran through the group as a ripple of movement; not a tactic he normally relished, but he was exhausted, damn it. Exhausted and fed up of this team of superheroes who had potentially been one of the causes for Almost-23 being in this state. 

His sudden surge of rage surprised even him.

It was possible that this group of people had not been the direct cause for Tony’s state, but their confusion and concern clearly showed that they hadn’t known he was this badly off. Yes, he would not normally blame people’s friends for allowing abuse to occur, but this was not an ordinary group of people.

They were a team.

They were meant to have each other’s backs, to care for each other. Theirs was typically a lonely existence as was any person who worked within the services. 

Sometimes a team was all someone had.

That they had let their duty slip so badly…

Walker was beyond fuming. 

“Myself and my partner had to stop this kid, this ‘Almost-23’ from jumping more than once. He was that driven. That desperate. That alone. We got him back here to the hospital for him to suddenly recognise that all the pain he was in wasn’t just down to his own injuries, but an over-stretched Bond with his own kid. That’s where you guys came in.” 

Walker paused once more to level a glare at the team of superheroes who were looking steadily less and less annoyed and much more shamefaced. Maybe this wasn’t the way that Hawkeye had intended for the tension to be dissipated, but it was sort of working. 

“Now. The only reason that I haven’t asked to have you escorted out by security is the fact that Tony left his kid with you. That tells me that he has some form of trust in you, and, more importantly, trusts you with his kid. He knows you won’t hurt her, which therefore suggests that you weren’t the ones who physically hurt him. Or, you know, you’ve beaten him into believing that he deserved everything that’s gone wrong, but I somehow don’t think that he’d entrust his daughter with you even if that was the case.” 

One finger slowly raised to tap at his chin idly in genuine contemplation rather than the theatrical movement it was so often used as these days. “I really don’t know what to do here, guys. You’re the Avengers. The epitome of goodness and protectiveness. Yet this has happened to one of your old teammates?” 

Right Walker. Time to rein it back a bit – there was such a thing as too harsh and he had leapt over that line with miles to spare. Superheroes were just people too. They made mistakes, and his deductions were logical. That plus their concern really did not seem feigned. Yes, of course, some abusers did feel guilty and horrified at their actions, but the whole team? That wasn’t likely. 

He shook his head, trying to clear the anger from it.

“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for; it’s been a long day. I’m sore, grumpy and somewhat shocked at the break from routine.” As he apologised he rolled out his shoulders in an effort to release the tension, grimacing at the ache that the movement caused to resound through his body. Coffee. That’s what he needed. Could he go and wheedle one out of the nurses office? Their coffee was so much superior to the liquefied dog-crap the cafeteria served. How would he even get to the nurses office from here? Why were all hospitals such damn warrens, anyway? The tired officer released another heavy sigh as he looked around for a seat to collapse into. It all sounded far too much like effort, plus he wanted to be here when Tony came out again. Speaking of, should he go and knock on the door? They were being a long time in there…

“We…” Captain America’s tone trailed away as he clearly tried to collect his thoughts. The tone was… well it wasn’t precisely contrite. But it wasn’t filled with the barely restrained frustration that had been present before. 

“We’ve barely spoken to Stark…Tony in recent years. Not since he moved out of New York. Things grew…difficult. He grew less reliable – stopped always coming out when he was needed. Was purposefully disrespectful. More reckless. It was difficult because in a way he was acting his age in way he never had previously. He was acting out, just like a typical teenager. We, no, I, didn’t know how to respond to his behaviour and didn’t always act well. He and I had several arguments until eventually he just stormed out and moved in with Carl. The rest of the team tried to keep in contact with Tony, but their attempts were rebuffed, until eventually it seemed better to just let him contact us when he was willing.” 

Walker tiredly hiked up his eyebrow once more only to be startled as a mug of steaming liquid was thrust in front of his face held by none other than one Bruce Banner. Or the Hulk, you know, the guy it was incredibly wise to do what he told you to. “Th-thanks.” Stammered the officer, startled by the sudden movement.

“You looked tired,” came the reply from the seemingly perpetually rumpled doctor with a strained smile. “I figured that I’d be able to help with that, at least.” If there was an overtone of bitterness and self-hatred to the man’s tone? Well… it was deserved. Right? Somehow Walker’s rant, combined with the Captain’s admittedly truly repentant and pathetic expression, seemed to have drained all the residual anger from the grizzled man’s frame.   
“I’m sure none of you meant any harm.” He begrudgingly admitted, “and in a way I’m holding you to impossible standards because of who you are. That’s just as wrong in its own right, so I am sorry. Where to go from now? Fixing this. Who could have caused this situation? What happened. Finding that out is the priority. My money is on his Bonded going from his earlier reaction. It’s unusual, but it does happen.” 

Banner was just about to reply when the door to the bathroom reopened revealing Hawkeye with the kid tucked securely under his arm and wrapped up in several layers of towels. “Here we go, Tony.” He was murmuring soothingly as he near carried the three-quarter asleep man to the bed. “Let’s get you settled.” 

Bruce immediately made his way over to the bed, conveniently out of the duo’s path and carefully passed the sleeping Alicia to Natasha whilst lifting the numerous blankets up so the nearly comatose billionaire could just slide in with no distractions. As soon as he was settled, Natasha returned the slumbering infant to her mother while Banner tucked the pair in securely. 

“Tony?” the doctor whispered, not wanting to alarm him, “is it alright if I start up an IV? You need some fluids pretty badly.” 

No-one quite predicted the omega’s response.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....
> 
> Yeah...
> 
> It hasn't been *mumble* amount of months, honest? I'm really sorry folks, was dealing with crap from earlier on in the year and just couldn't put myself in a writing frame of mind. I've made several attempts? I'm not promising next updates will be super speedy either, nothing is wrong precisely, just nothing is exactly right. Sorry. 
> 
> I've been seriously shocked that I've received pretty much daily kudos for this fic - very, very awesome. Plus lots of lovely comments and subscriptions, so thank you for those! 
> 
> Also, couple of questions:  
> \- What are people’s thoughts on the capitalisation of Alpha/Beta/Omega? I see some stories put capital letters and others don’t. I mean, it’s not technically a proper noun I don’t think? Really not sure! 
> 
> \- Do any more experienced writers have any advice on how to manage multiple characters in a room at the same time? I keep on feeling like I'm neglecting people by not mentioning what they're doing or how they're reacting (ie I realised only today that I've barely mentioned Thor - we'll just assume he was hanging around in the background, alright?)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I'll do my best with the next chapter. 
> 
> (Also, sorry if this is posting multiple times for anyone - my internet keeps on cutting out so I'm unsure if it's posting or not.)

Tony accepted the promise of medication without hint of rebellion. He appeared to watch as the doctor gently took his arm and searched around for a useable vein to inject. Bruce, in particular, kept his gaze zeroed in on the doctor as she found a vein on the second attempt, disguising any unease she might have possibly felt as Bruce’s lip raised in threat of a silent snarl as she failed at her first attempt.

“His veins are rather small,” had been her almost idle comment as she successfully inserted the needle on her second attempt. Bruce nodded in grudging acceptance, pleased that the woman had not tried to theorise a reason without as to why that was. Nor had she made any excuses. She would be a good suit for Tony. 

Bruce continued to watch the woman with an eagle gaze as she puttered around adding appropriate medications to the heated saline solution and ensuring Tony had sufficient coverings. It wasn’t that he doubted the woman’s capabilities, not really, but it meant he didn’t have to observe Tony’s complete inaction at all the medical attention. He did not have to observe how Tony just laid there so silently, only allowing his eyelids to slip into a slow blink as the liquid was added to one of his drips. He did not have to observe how pale the man still was, despite renewed contact with his daughter (how pale was he before he started overstretching their Bond? It should not be taking him this long too better!), how bruised, battered and defeated the omega appeared.

A few moments later, after the doctor had checked everything that needed doing, she nodded to the assembled Avengers and left the room to continue her rounds having said everything needed to them earlier. Now was the time to allow the omega to catch up on his sorely needed rest while they waited for test results to come back. “One hour only,” she reminded them as she departed the room. 

Bruce did not have to observe any of this. 

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion – the genius was renowned for his hatred of all medication, from Tylenol to antibiotics. Bruce had explained once while Steve had been mid-rant about how childish the other man was regarding the taking of medication whilst in the middle of an infection that it was because Tony was terrified of addiction or dependency. No matter how unlikely he was to get addicted to simple antibiotics. 

Bruce had explained that he knew full well how irrational he was being, but both of his parents, and Tony himself had all had issues with dependency and just the thought of taking any form of drugs made him extremely uneasy. 

The team were all familiar with the genius’ attempts to therefore circumvent medication, no matter how much it annoyed them. 

To see him accept it so… passively, no, _submissively_? That just added yet another layer onto the unease that was running rampant through the air. 

Steve didn’t even need to glance at his team-mates to know they were just as disquieted by the scene before him as he himself was. Passive just did not describe Tony Stark. Submissive suited him even less. 

Only the police officer, Walker, and Tony himself didn’t seem to hold the same level of confusion mixed in with concern that the others held. Tony was blinking exhaustedly, finally regaining a bit of colour to his pallid cheeks as he clutched his daughter to his chest possessively. The contact was clearly helping both of them as the pain from their stretched bonds slowly disappeared. For Alicia at least, Tony must still be in agony from his stretched Bond with Carl.

However, the omega was surely relishing the warmth that was encasing him, both from the blanket and the heated saline drip that was gently trickling into his veins and warming him from the inside out. Part of Steve was urging him to clasp the other man’s whitened hand and chafe at it until the whiteness was bright red that would at least fade to the man’s more usual, healthy, tanned colour. But the nurses had cautioned against such actions explaining it could damage his skin and cause further pain due to the hypothermia. 

Wasn’t that a horrific thought? His cells were so damaged from the prolonged exposure that just rubbing at them too much would damage him further? Rub the skin itself off. Steve didn’t even try to suppress the terror that thought filled him with… he’d so narrowly escaped that. If it wasn’t for the serum running through his veins…

Besides. Steve was unsure how welcome the action would be. Tony had previously been very touch-orientated – he had responded well to a clasp on the shoulder, or pat on the back. But that had begun to change fairly soon after he had found his Bondmate, Carl. Steve had always assumed it was because Carl was jealous of other people touching his omega – some alphas were like that, after all. It wasn’t uncommon or even looked on as bad. After all in such a scent-orientated society, an alpha could easily smell when another person had touched their omega. Some Alpha’s could feel physically nauseous at the scent of other people on their omega, whereas others were unbothered. It was normal and accepted. 

Maybe there had been other reasons Tony was like this? It didn’t necessarily have to be Carl. The alpha had certainly seemed affable enough. He had been concerned with appearances – not necessarily how one looked, but in how one appeared to others. Natasha had explained that he most likely found it hard being an alpha to someone like Tony. The man had issues enough to sink a battleship, let alone the pressure the media put on the pair. It was not the omega’s fault, but he would be a difficult Bond partner to anyone not used to their style of life. 

Steve had still been horrified. 

He had known that the media could be invasive, but the sheer lewdness of some of their comments; speculation over whether Stark ‘wore the trousers’, whether Carl was alpha enough to make the ‘Mighty Iron Man’ submit and obey… Some of the comments had been derogatory enough to make some omega activist groups sit up and take notice. Some of the comments had even been redacted. 

Stark had initially laughed the comments off, but Carl had always taken on a pinched expression, one which tightened as they grew more and more derogatory in nature. Tony had laughed less and less about it too, instead growing quiet whenever the news mentioned him and his Bonded. 

Steve had been certain that had been one of the reasons he’d finally stopped Avenging. Carl had been unable to take the heat. It must have been hard enough to watch your omega go and put himself at risk, add that onto the celebrity status superheroing gave him? Steve was certain he wouldn’t have been able to manage. 

Could that have driven the man to violence though? They were Bonded. Not just in love, but Soul-Bonded. Born for each other, et cetera. Some speculated that some Bonded pairs could even feel eachothers pain… It wasn’t unheard of for abuse to occur between a Bonded pair, but it really was incredibly rare. There would always be those who would take the situation too far when granted with a feeling of power, even when it hurt their hearts to do so. That was just a factor of life. Yet, to do so to your own Bonded…

The very thought made Steve feel filthy inside. Abuse itself went against every moral fibre he possessed, but the ability to hurt your Bonded. 

The disgust, however, was tempered by the very slightest feeling of excitement. A feeling Steve did his very best to stamp down on; before Carl had turned up, Steve had born hope that the Avengers could become some form of pack like was common in his day. 

It wasn’t a sexually based thing as the media (and average citizen) seemed to believe – the Bonds that could be formed were nothing like those between partners. Instead it was more like a familial bond, except the members didn’t need to share blood. Well, they did, but that was only in the pack bonding ceremony. It happened in a lot of military outfits; the pack members would gain a further understanding of each other – an idea where each other were, that sort of thing. They’d be able to pick out the members of their pack from within a crowd whilst blind-folded and nose-stopped up. That sort of thing. It was just a heightened sense of awareness…

The only issue was that it needed to have at least one alpha, one beta and at least one omega for the bonds to be formed. Bonded pairs could join, but both had to be willing. Tony had indicated his willingness, Carl… wasn’t. On a team which only contained a single omega, their options had been limited. 

Packs were much rarer these days – people seemed to think there was something… animalistic about them. Steve didn’t believe so, he’d never been a part of one himself of course, but he’d seen others who had been. 

Still, the slight hope that if Carl was out of the picture then a pack could be formed? Well, Steve was not going to air his hopes remotely… for one, it wasn’t proven yet that Tony was a victim of abuse, but his reactions so far…

Still.

Steve resolved to not make a snap judgement until he had the facts from Stark when he was more compis mentis. He’d made instant judgements about the man beforehand, and had been proven wrong. He would wait this time until he had personally spoken to Tony.

The room remained silent as they all watched Tony slowly slip into sleep. Clint was unable to prevent himself from expecting the man to make some form of cocky remark about how they were all perverted for watching him sleep. Or just some form of banter. Anything. 

Instead he just laid there, his daughter clasped in his arms. Maybe it should have concerned the Beta, the child being held so tightly – it would have been so easy for the exhausted omega to accidentally roll over onto her and suffocate her. But Clint had no doubt that nothing like that would happen, not ever. The pair were instead surely helping each other. They’d both had traumatic days, after all.

Besides, it’s not as if the rest of the team would allow that to happen, anyway. 

Clint watched in silence as Alicia shifted herself upwards slightly so that she was nestled under the crook of Tony’s chin. The flat of her forehead pressed against his neck so she could feel every intake of raspy breath the man let out and inhaled. Without opening his eyes, the omega’s hand instinctively pressed itself against her back, cradling her firmly so that she was unable to fall.

“…last…f’d?”

Tony’s raspy words broke the silence that the room had descended too, a silence disrupted only by the low hum of machinery and quiet (soothing…?) beeps. Clint blinked, he’d thought the omega far too far gone for words.

“She’s fine, Tony.” Clint replied, careful to maintain the soothing ‘victim voice’ he’d adopted while speaking to the man – boy, really. At least, he assumed that the omega was asking after his daughter, that made the most sense and it had been hard to understand the slurred words. 

“.. feeds of’n. Often. Three hours. Din’ do. C’ld not. Tried.”

“Hush, Tones.” Clint stepped closer towards Tony once more and slowly, excruciatingly slowly, rested his hand on the battered head. He allowed his fingers to thread through the man’s still-grubby hair, gently tugging at the strands in a soothing fashion. He didn’t like how the omega was slowly waking up rather than falling into the sleep he so desperately needed. 

So, although it felt like the worst thing to do was interrupt the man and hush him…. It was (hopefully…) the right thing to do. Clint was just about to open his mouth and continue his soothing speech when Walker began speaking, his voice becoming almost richer sounding as he purposefully emphasised his low southern drawl. 

“Alicia is absolutely fine. I promise you. I’ll have some food ready for her when she wakes up and you can just sleep in a bit. Can you feel her? She’s sleeping on top of you on your chest. She sure looks comfy, slumbering away there. Can you feel her breaths? I’m sure she can feel yours. She looks so peaceful right now, her eyes are closed, they must have been so heavy. Are your eyes heavy? They sure do look it… That’s right kid, you close those heavy, heavy eyes. Let them slip closed, that’s the way…”

“n’ a ki…”

Walker didn’t try to bite back the grin, even as he motioned at Clint to continue his rhythmic stroking/tugging motion. “Alright, alright. Grumpy old man. You just let those ol’ tired eyes close… Good, like that. Now, now, don’t slide them open again. There we go. Stop cheating and peeking, now. Doesn’t that feel better? Fast asleep like an ancient old man. ‘Course yer no kid. You’re an ancient old man, isn’t that right?” 

None of the Avengers tried to hide their amusement as Walker basically badgered their old team-mate into sleep, ribbing at him the entire time.

It was a moment of not even real comedy that was sorely needed. No one wanted to think about the reasons that Tony had to be talked to sleep. So instead they all decided to focus on the comedy of the thought instead. 

“We could do with you in the Tower,” Clint whispered as he watched the slumbering pair a brief while later as he continued to pet the slumbering man and child. “Tony’s never got to sleep easily, I remember when he lived with us he was permanently awake. Used to say it was because his brain just refused to shut up, though I always suspected it was also because he had so much work to do.” 

“He wasn’t entirely making excuses,” Bruce murmured somewhat absentmindedly as he kept his eyes fixated on the various machines beeping and humming around his friend. “He literally does have that many thoughts running through his mind at any one time that it can make sleep tough.” 

Steve eyed his team-mate with some concern. Bruce did not appear to be taking this whole scenario well; it was obvious from both the distracted air the other alpha held and the way he appeared to be doing his utmost best to not look at the slumbering omega. The two had previously been close; had there been argument between them that Steve was unaware of? 

Or maybe Bruce was feeling shame? Or just couldn’t manage to look at their ex-teammate. They’d all been injured over the course of the years they’d been a team together and the alpha had never before been unable to tend them. Steve had fond memories of watching the other man berate Tony for being foolish enough to avoid proper med care at the same time as he patched him up. This… reserve was most unlike the man. 

Yet another thing to watch over. 

It was really quite impressive how much one person could affect a team. Particularly one person who had such a small sense of his own self-worth. Mind you, in such a small team then everyone’s actions effected each other. But Tony… despite his age, he provided them a home. It was possibly because he was an omega, or possibly because he was the youngest. He was their younger sibling and carer all rolled into one. 

It had taken a long time for Steve to understand Tony’s particular brand of caring; the way the younger man would try to rile his teammates up until they revealed what was bugging them. Or would just try and chuck money and possessions at them in a misguided effort to make them feel better. Part of it was no doubt his age; he would understand better how to bring a family together as he grew older, but part of it was no doubt just Tony himself. He seemed so… uncertain in _how_ to be an omega – it was as though he felt guilty for caring about the others and for wanting to make them a home environment. 

These attributes had worsened after Carl; Tony had stopped talking to the others quite so freely and very rarely had he sought them out for one-on-one chats the way he’d used to. Steve had noticed that at the time, but… 

With an internal growl, he shoved his thoughts away from that well-trod path. He had already decided that he was going to wait until Tony was conscious before making any decisions! He was busy worrying about Bruce at that moment. 

“Bruce, Are you alright?” he asked quietly, stepping closer to other man in order to gain a bit of privacy. From the way Natasha was discretely eyeing him whilst in quiet conversation with Clint, the move hadn’t gone unnoticed, and she most likely approved. He would not have been the only one to notice the scientist’s a-typical behaviour. 

Bruce remained silent as he continued to keep his eyes fixed on the machines as though afraid that if he were to look away then they might break. 

“Bruce?” Steve re-iterated, laying a hand on the man’s tense shoulder. Bruce started, not expecting the contact and with rapid movements removed his glasses and jerkily began to clean them.

“Sorry, Steve. Did you say something? I wasn’t paying attention.” Each word suited his jerky movements, each word sounding bitten off and sharp in a way that was so foreign to the man. 

Steve eyed him carefully before coming to a decision and speaking in a slightly louder tone, though still hushed enough that it wouldn’t disturb Tony or Alicia. “I was wondering if we could get some more chairs in here? I know I certainly don’t want to leave, and I’m sure you all agree, but it is late. We’re going to need our wits about us in the morning, and you, Officer, what are your plans? Surely your shift must be finished by now?” He possibly shouldn’t have said that last bit – it sounded like he was trying to make the man leave, which he really wasn’t, Walker certainly appeared to have taken it that way judging by the way he was bristling. 

“Apologies, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just meant that… well… you look tired.” Exhausted, was more like it. We’re all tired, and you’ve been here longer than the rest of us. It has to be, what, four? Five?” 

Walker accepted the apology with a nod, and firmly told himself to stand down. Rogers was right, he was exhausted, hence his acting like some cub in his twenties. Heh. Almost-23’s age. He rubbed his hand over his face, noting the scrape of bristles that had slowly pushed their way through the skin of his jaw. He desperately needed to trim his beard... 

“Sorry, Rogers. Over-reaction. I think I will stay here, if you all don’t mind. I just…I mean, I need to get his statement still.” 

Clint didn’t try to hide his smile. “He does that, hey? Gets under your skin like a damn worm or something. A half-drowned puppy that you just can’t help but care for and want to look after.” 

Walker grinned slightly shamefacedly, “I’m not meant to get attached, but… yes. It’s just… you didn’t see him earlier. He was in such a crappy position and still being so… snarky. I quite often get called on attempted-suicide cases I think because I do care so quickly. I tend to build a rapport and…” It was at that point he noticed the previously relaxed atmosphere had been lost.

He glanced around the room, taking in the suddenly tensed muscles and frozen expressions. It took him a moment to realise what information he had accidentally spilled. “Shit. I shouldn’t have told you that.” he sighed, scraping his hand over his face once more. At this rate he was going to give himself a hand-shaped bruise, “Though what else you thought he was going to do having left his daughter with you…”

Even he could appreciate that comment was less than helpful.

“He didn’t do it. He’s here now, alright? He’s going to be fine. I appreciate that I ought to have a much better grasp over my tongue, but it’s been a long shift and I wasn’t thinking – I thought you already knew, and…” With an effort, he curbed his runaway tongue and just sat in silence for a moment while he waited for the Avengers to come back online. 

Bruce was the first as he shakily mumbled something about going to get see a nurse about getting some extra seats to make up beds and hurried out the room. Natasha, in turn, kicked at Clint’s ankle and placed a hand on both Steve and Thor’s shoulders, “Bed,” she said simply to the room at large. “We knew this was most likely the case. It should not be a surprise. Pull yourselves together and we will deal with this in the morning.” 

Thor nodded numbly; suicide was such a foreign concept for an Asgardian… it was almost impossible for one to kill themselves, of course people were sad, but as a culture it just…it was a bit of a shock that this was what Tony had been attempting. Natasha knew that he would struggle with that knowledge; they had run into this curious blind spot in Thor’s understanding of culture several times over the years. Mainly when famous people died by their own hand. Still. It was something to sleep on. 

Natasha continued to gently chivvy and bully them all until they were all lying in an assortment of chairs or on the floor under blankets that Bruce had managed to procure from somewhere. Even Officer Walker. She chose to perch neatly on a single chair with a mug of coffee given her by some kind nurse as she sat and observed her Team.

She planned.


End file.
